


Of Tools and Sabers

by RaisonRoux



Category: Alternate - Fandom, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Breathplay, Canon Compliant at first, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit eventually, F/M, Falling In Love, Lots of plot first, POV Multiple, Paranoia, kylo hates you and everyone else, love triangle?, way too much about elevators
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:48:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29295423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaisonRoux/pseuds/RaisonRoux
Summary: "As a droid mechanic for the First Order, life is routine. Wake, Eat, Work, Sleep. Just like the droids you fix, you are a mere tool of the Regime - kept alive as long as you serve a purpose. Your entire world is the Order, aside from a few hazy memories of your childhood & the companionship of your older sister. With such a weak link to your past, you devote yourself to work, becoming one of the most skilled engineers of your team.Your simple life is enough, until you both develop special skills that tear at the fabric of your identities. Embracing your abilities in secret, you both continue on with work as though nothing has changed (for fear of retribution). But keeping a secret in the most tyrannical system in the galaxy is no easy feat, and your sister’s actions catch the eye of a high ranking officer.After the mysterious death of your sister, a series of events changes your destiny forever - bringing you out of the shadows.  With a new assignment, the encouragement of a brave roommate, and a cocky resistance prisoner - life becomes less routine and much more dangerous."I gave in. I never thought I would be writing a Star Wars Kylo/Reader romance. But here I am writing it...and enjoying it :-)
Relationships: Ben Solo/Reader, Kylo Ren/Original Female Character(s), Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You, Poe Dameron/Reader, Poe Dameron/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. Preface

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is all background. It is told matter of factly so we can jump into the story in chapter 2

Orphaned as girls, you and your older sister are taken captive by the First Order. Despite the cold, unforgiving atmosphere of your new home, your sister always made it feel like the safe, calming shelter of your former life. You are schooled in the ways of the First Order for 10 years, until you are placed with your assignments. With your shared lack of fighting skills, you are both enrolled in the mechanic apprentice program. A year into the program, you notice strange feelings take over your mind without your control. It seems that whenever you feel an emotion, it seems the entire room follows suit. Confiding in your sister, she admits that you two belong to an endangered species of Empaths - a people that could not only read other’s emotions, but control them. You beg her for more information, but with so many of your people destroyed the secrets of the Empaths remain a mystery to all. Over the next year, she helps you hone your skills and prevent detection. You graduate from the program and become a droid tech on the Finalizer. The solitude of working on the inner mechanics of machines, gives you the practice your new abilities.

Almost fluent in your powers, you notice your sister become more and more distant as you sense a difference in her - an emotion you have never come in contact with before. Late one night, your sister admits that she has fallen in love with a high ranking official on the Fulminatrix and they plan to secretly marry when he returns.

Days later, you are awoken to the sound of screams from your sister. Her gaze is distant as she mumbles frantically about a resistance bomber approaching. Manic and pained, you are convinced she was poisoned. Using all of your abilities, You try to wake her from her nightmare, but fail. With one final gasp, she dies in your arms. You are certain your sister was murdered and that you may be next. You become even more protective of your secret.

A month later you are placed with a new roommate. Rose Tico is an elevator tech (In this AU Rose is apart of the FO). The two of you form an instant friendship and she admits how much your presence in her life has calmed her. By sharing a room, she discovers your secret and convinces you that you have to act on your abilities and make the First Order a better place. Soon the two of you begin small missions. You visit shell shocked stormtroopers, med bay patients, and anyone else on the fringes ready to be discarded by the Order.

This is where our story begins…


	2. Chapter 2

You are in the repair shop, dismantling your third sentry droid of the day. It's getting late. It is past your normal workday, but there is something about this quiet, gray, solitary room that allows your mind to clear. The metal replacement parts that hang from the ceiling , gently knock into each other as the constant hum of the overhead fan breezes through them. When you close your eyes, it reminds you of chimes. You smile to yourself as you pretend it is the song of the droids.

You take a deep sigh in. Ever since you and Rose began your secret morale boosting missions two months ago, you have become drained. Each emotional imprint you conjure, takes a toll on your energy. But Rose is always quick to drag you back to your room to rest, reminding you of the lives you are saving each step of the way. 

You look back down at your project. Typically your work involves updating systems, replacing worn gears, and fixing broken tracks. However, these droids, with their long burn scars are different. There is only one weapon that can make these wounds… a lightsabor. All the techs are familiar with the work of Kylo Ren’s outbursts, but you are one of the few that has not seen him in person. Thankfully it's a big ship and you are lucky enough to have an assignment that keeps you out of the way, free from the fury of your unstable leader. Knitting your brows together, you consider all the rumors and whisperings you have heard about the Commander as you attempt to salvage the undamaged parts of the ill-fated droid in front of you. Evil, powerful, brooding are all words your peers use when describing the elusive leader. Your favorite description is one Rose shared last week over dinner, “The universe’s first living heart donor.” Laughing so hard, you shot Elba water from your nose. Your glee emoted throughout the cafeteria and soon the room erupted in laughter, but no one (except for you and Rose) understood why.

You begin to chuckle again at the thought of it and the relief of not getting caught, when the door of the repair shop flies open.

“There you are!” shouts Rose, she hurries over and pulls you from your chair. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. We don't have much time!” She leads the way and you quicken your pace to catch up.

“Who is it this time?” You ask, trying to still your mind as your feet frantically walk.

“A stormtrooper, FN-2187, - just returned from Jakku. I heard from talk in the elevator that they are going to send him into reconditioning.”

Once in front of his barrack door, Rose stops suddenly and grabs your hand. “Please do whatever it takes. He…” pausing she catches her breath, “He’s important to me.”

You squeeze her hand back and nod. “Now go keep watch.”

Entering the room you see FN-2187 still in his uniform aside from his helmet. He is trembling in his bed and mumbling to himself. Instantly you are reminded of the last moments of your sister. Shaking your head from the negative thought you try to focus on calm, healing emotions instead. He looks up at you, eyes wildly looking over your face in fear.

“I’m here to help you,” you whisper gently. You breath out two large breaths to put the room at ease. Already you can sense the calm overtaking the frenzy in the small room. Freeing your hands from your work gloves, you smile at your patient, “I’m going to rest my hands on your head now. Look into my eyes and match my breathing.” You sense his hesitation, so you whisper a direct breath into his mouth and his heaving chest steadies. Placing each hand over his cheeks and ears, you close your eyes and sense his emotions. Fear, doubt, and the overwhelming urge to run circle your mind in racing loops. Beneath your palms you feel his jaw relax as you absorb his feeling. With his mind blank, you are now ready to implant your calming imprint into his soul. At once your old, well worn, comforting memories appear behind your eyelids. These serene moments are you most precious possession. You think of a time playing outside as a child. The feel of your sisters hand guiding you in a game. You remember your first pet, sleeping gently in your lap. The gentle purr lulling you to sleep. You imagine eating your favorite dessert. Opening your eyes, you see the trooper smiling. Satisficed with the result you release your hands from his face. Before you stand, FN-2187 reaches out to grab your hands and opens his eyes forcefully.

“Wait! They’ve got a prisoner; a Resistance Pilot,” said the trooper. Even though he was now calm, you could tell this was important to him… urgent. You have helped many erratic troopers in the past, desperate to not feel the mental pains of their job. However, this time was different, this storm trooper was looking out for his enemy. The kindness in his heart, it is no wonder Rose cares for him.

“Do you know where they are keeping him?” You ask quietly, still trying to keep the peace in the room.

“Cellblock R, 115.”

Placing your hand on his chest, you hold his gaze, “I will handle it. Now, the med techs will be here soon for your scan. I need you to absorb every last bit of calm in this room to make sure you pass. So, close your eyes and try to sleep.”

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“And one thing for me… don’t tell anyone I was here."

“I promise,” he replies before adding, “And tell Rose I’m going to be okay.”

You smile at him as you leave the room. Rounding the corner you met up with Rose and she motions for an update. Hearing footsteps approaching, you both hide in a nearby laundry closet as you watch two med techs and two troopers make their way to FN-2187’s room. Rose's countenance drops and she grabs your shoulders.

“Y/N! Tell me he’s going to pass! He has to pass!”

“If he follows my instruction, he will pass. They showed up faster than normal, so they will most likely feel the effects as well.” You start laughing at the thought. “They will be so delighted to give him the scan, that they may forget why they are there.”

“I'd love to be a fly on that wall,” Rose jokes , absorbing your lighthearted mood. “Do you mind waiting here with me until they leave?”

“I can’t. I made him a promise to check on someone they captured on Jakku. Rose, what elevator will take me to cellblock R?”

Her smile fades instantly, “What?! No, that is too dangerous! We’ve never… you haven’t… you’ll get caught!”

You look around the closet to see discarded uniforms, and you pick up a storm trooper one. “Perhaps, not.”


	3. Chapter 3

As Rose buckles your shin guards, she asks, “What are you going to do?”

“Well I can’t free him and Kylo will probably kill him, so something between the two of those options," you joke, .

“Be serious, Y/N! I can’t lose you because you didn't think this through.” She tightens the shin armor too tightly in frustration and you wince, “I still think you should just leave it alone. If you don't, both you and FN-2187 could get in trouble, and I can't do this alone."

Ignoring her concerns to prevent self-doubt from creeping in, you continue with your plan, “I think all I can do is put him in a pliable, comatose state. He will be more forthcoming with information and they may spare his life. And even if they do hurt him, his mind will be too fuzzy to register the pain. I’m not as fluent in that emotion, but it seems like the best option.”

“Why not the happy state?” Rose asks as she picks up a helmet from the pile and holds it above your head. "You're so good at that one, should be easy."

You tuck your long, wavy hair into your black turtle neck as you say, “No, it would be too obvious that his emotions were coached. It would start an investigation. This has to look normal.”

She places the helmet on your head and taps the top of it, “Speaking of normal, you now look exactly like everyone else on this ship.” She smiles, catches herself, then frowns, “You’re emoting confidence right now and it’s leaking into me. Before I breathe anymore in and agree this idea is a good one, just remember to be careful. If it gets too dangerous - bail.” 

You pull your friend into a hug. “Everything will be just fine.”

“I believe you,” she admits squeezing you back, now fully giving into the emotional imprint.

***

Kylo Ren stands overlooking the galaxy, the anxious squirming of his jaw shielded from view by his battered helmet, soulless and intimidating. Staring out into the vast sea of space used to put his mind at ease, center his being. However, the hypnotic star speckled blackness out his window no longer soothed his restless spirit. The limitless expanse once possessed the possibility of controlling it all; but now he only saw his failures, his frustrations, and his unstable uncertainly. He tries harder to regain control of his mind, until he hears the interruption of someone clearing a throat behind him.

“The prisoner has awoken, sir,” says Lieutenant Larin firmly. Kylo's shoulders, drapped in a heavy cape, arch backwards as his face slowly turns to observe the intrusion. With all confidence lost, the lieutenant’s voice trembles as he continues, “Would you like me to escort you to the cell, Commander Ren?”

Kylo waits to respond, the room deadly silent except for the flexing leather gloves around his twisting hand. Lieutenant Larin holds his breath in fear that it may be his last, and just before he passes out, Kylo responds. “No. I prefer to be alone before I “converse” with our guest. That will be all.” The lightheaded messenger breathes a sigh of relief and quickly leaves the room, grateful to be leaving with his life. Kylo considers making his prisoner wait a little longer to sweat it out before the “fun” begins, but decides against it. If gazing across space wouldn't satisfy him, perhaps a little torture would.

Within moments, Kylo enters the elevator. The consistent shushing of the machine lulls him into a mental place where he can clear his thoughts just enough to allow the force greater access. The elevator slows and stops on another floor. Incensed that his mediation has been interrupted he situates into his most intimidating pose right in front of the door to block anyone from entering. The door opens to a single storm trooper and Kylo smirks to himself. It was rare to find stormtroopers alone, but when he did he loved watching fear seize their body before running awkwardly away. When he was younger, he would force trip them for the hell of it. 

However the trooper didn’t run, instead attempting to squeeze past him to enter the lift. The armored body making full contact with his side. Startled into stillness, Kylo reads the notification numbers on the helmet as it passes below him.

“Pardon me” says the female voice, completely at ease. Not even a trace of terror. The door shuts them both in and continues the decent down.

Taken completely off guard, Kylo takes a step back as his fingers land on the hilt of his sabor.

“Are you lost, trooper?” He seethes. It wasn’t a question so much as a warning.

“No, I know exactly where I am. But thank you for asking. Very kind of you," the pleasant trooper responds with a lightness in her voice. "If they ever survey the staff regarding workplace satisfaction I will reference this moment."

Kylo’s annoyance transforms instantly to confusion.

“I...” he begins, but his mind feels so hazy he cannot think of what to say next.

The doors open.

“This is your stop, Sir.”

Kylo grunts and walks out into the hall. “Wait this isn’t my floor. Where am -”

“Have a nice day,” says the voice behind the closing doors.

Still confused he keeps shaking his head trying to remember his mission. At last the haziness clears and anger fills the void. Slamming his fist into the elevator call button, he punches a hole into the wall and the button disappears behind the fractured frame. Suddenly the lights flicker and the signage above the door reads ERROR. 

“AGH,” he yells into the hallway, startling passing groups of people unaware of his presence until now. Kylo just wanted to damage the button, not break the entire lift. “Lift mechanic!!! Now!!” He screams into the crowd. Bodies flurry into action as Kylo paces in front of the door. This elevator is one of two that reach the cell block floors. The other being on the complete opposite side of the ship. He briefly considers traveling to the other lift, but to his annoyance the fastest option is to wait. He hates waiting.


	4. Chapter 4

“Have a nice day,” you say to Commander Ren as the doors close. The confidence that has taken hold of your senses strikes out any fear. Sure, you knew that there could be repercussions, but you still felt that this was going to work. As the door slows to the cell block floor you went the over Rose's instructions one more time. As Rose helped you dress she told you of a little known forced reboot programed into every First Order’s vertical transport system. She told you that if you hold the two top buttons while repeatedly pressing the door open button the system would flag an error and reset. A whole system reset takes almost 30 minutes. 

Once the cell floor door opens you attempt the reset. The lift groans and the lights flicker, it worked. It is powering down and the signage flashes "ERROR". With no time to waste, you run to the cell block corridor. You have to get in, get out, and shed this uniform before Commander Ren finds you.

After using your skills to convince two patrol guards that your presence is required, you are feeling depleted. Your secret missions with Rose happen maybe two or three times over the course of a week, but never so much in one day. Body dragging, you tell yourself, “Just one more time and you can sleep. You’re just gonna mentally knock the guy out, then your home free.”

You enter the cell to find a very alert prisoner, fighting against the restraints. The room is filled with an odd mixture of worry, hope, and determination.

“Hey, bucket head, what’s a guy gotta do to get a drink around here? I hate to say this, but the service here is shit,” dryly jokes the cocky pilot, a big talker for someone strapped to a table.

Turning your back to him, you take off your helmet and set it on a nearby shelf. Showing your identity is dangerous, anyone could walk in, but you know it has to be done. The helmet will dilute too much of your breath, making the whole process take too long, if not impossible. You don't have that kind of time. The pilot keeps babbling, obviously a defensive mechanism. However, the moment you turn around he is stunned into silence… which doesn't last long. 

“You’re… not what I expected,” he says just above a whisper. “Do all the clones look like you… if so what are you all doing tonight?” He smirks as he shoots you a wink.

“Shh, please…” you urge, “I’m here to help you.” As you walk towards him you close your eyes and try to read his senses. The first step in the process of powering down his mind. Suddenly his emotions hit you like a slap to the face. “Damn it, pilot. _**You’re aroused?!**_ ”

He laughs out, “Hey, hey… I don't see why that's a problem. But yes… _guilty_. Better take me prisoner, tie me down, and have your way with me - which by the looks of it means we are at the last step.” His flirtatious emotions are filling up the room faster than you can dissipate them. The whole body chemical reaction of arousal is too strong of an emotion. Until satisfied, it leaves no room for any others to move in and take control. Even anger can be swayed, albeit slowly and painstakingly- but sexual arousal is impossible.

“Agh, you resistance fighters! A little First Order self control would do you a world of good,” you say realizing you will have to change your strategy. Aside from a chaste kiss with a peer from your apprentice program, the emotions of sexual desire were ones your explored alone. Looking over at the cooing pilot, your cheeks flush with embarrassment as his sensual emotions swirl through the air. You gulp as you take a step forward. 

“You leave me no choice. Damn it. Now it will be obvious.” You still yourself, close your eyes and rest a hand across his chin, his skin cold to the touch from the inhospitable temperature of the room. Flinching your fingers back you instead rest your hand on his chest, a warmth blooming beneath your palm. Taking in deep breath your nose fills with the strong aroma of smoke, a man fresh from a fight. You fingers cautiously explore his skin, as the texture of sand and chest hair alert you every nerve. 

“Hey, baby no one is stopping you from resting that hand a little lower,” the pilot says, biting his lip.

“Shh, this will go a lot faster if you don’t talk.” You say trying to sound annoyed, but it comes out deep and sultry instead. Despite your efforts to take charge of the tone of the moment, his soft sighs are making your head spin. 

“I like a lady in charge,” he says ignoring your request. In retaliation you move your finger to his lips to silence him. You close your eyes ad you give yourself over to the building sensation of pleasure - self pleasure. Your free hand moves to your most sensitive area, now begging to be touched. But your fingers are instantly stopped by the hard armor. Cursing in frustration, you consider giving up and leaving now - unsure of how to leave a lasting imprint of satisfaction without the aid of touch. 

Sensing your hesitation, the pilot begins kissing the fingers against his lips. As you look down at him, he meets your gaze and wraps his lips around your index finger, sucking seductively. You study his face. Despite the cuts and bruises, you grow hypnotized by his beckoning eyes and soft lips. Biting your lip you consider the danger of this moment, philandering with the enemy. But instead of shame it only fuels your lust. 

Intrigued by the handsome man making love to your fingers, you ask, “What’s your name?” 

When he opens his mouth to answer, you free your hand and hook it to the back of his strong neck - massaging tenderly.

“Poe,” he says slowly, his eyes never leaving yours as he cocks his head to lean into your touch.

Bending into his chest, your lips an inch away from his own, “Well, Poe… I’m gonna make you feel really good if you do everything I ask.” Before he has the chance to retort, you hover your parted full lips over his own and breathe into his nostrils. His breathing quickens, inhaling each exhale. 

An intoxicated, “Yeeeeesss” escapes Poe’s lips. Pulling back to meet his darkened eyes, he licks his lips. “More,” he begs. You close the distance between you again, you body now flush with his own upon the hard table. Poe pushes against the chair to meet your lips. The kiss is forceful, desperate, and... _incredible_. “You taste so good,” he says smirking against your lips.

You shiver at the compliment, nearly the same one you received from your first kiss years ago. You wonder if it’s true or if it’s just a phrase aroused men say. Focusing back on the prisoner beneath you, your tongue gently tastes his lips. The unmistakable tang of iron from the blood of his battered face alarms you. 

“Does it hurt?” You ask concerned as the hand on his chest goes lower, searching for the source of heat throbbing against your hip.

He shakes his head, “No, I can’t feel anything anymore except what your doing to me. Don’t stop.” He opens his mouth wider, tongue swiping across your bottom lip, begging for more. Giving in, you feel the heat of arousal take over your body. This man is a talented lover, the dexterity of his tongue alone proves it. Imagining his tongue elsewhere, hunger overwhelms you as your hands tug and caress his tan skin. The two of you moan in unison as the room becomes heavy with the scent of desire. 

As much as you are reveling this moment, your mind flashes back... back to that elevator with the masked leader. His tall, intense frame hovering over you. The heat radiating from his body as you slipped past him… you feel yourself melting at the mystery of him. After a deep breath out into Poe’s eager mouth, you begin to feel your pheromones reach their height.

“YES YES YES! Don’t fucking stop now!” Screams Poe. The sweat on his brow, the flex of his hands, the bulge pulsing below - his full acceptance of your pheromones is nearly compete. Wetting your lips, you reunite the kiss as you stroke the his hard length through his pants. Peaking, the pilot cries out, and slumps back into the table euphoric. You sense each of his muscles relaxing, especially his mind. It may not be the comatose state you planned but this was better, much better. 

Heart racing, you reluctantly pull back. Not sure of how much time has passed, you know you have to leave now. You quickly strap your helmet back on and head to the door.

With a satisfied hum, he parts his eyes to see you leaving , “Round 2?” He asks with a cocky grin. “This time no restraints… or clothes.”

You turn your head back and blow him a kiss. Confident you will never see the doomed man again you answer, “If I ever see you again... then it’s a date.”

“Promise?” He asks as his eyes plead with you to stay. 

“I promise,” your smile as you back out of the door.

As the door closes, you hear him moan out, “Fuck yes…”


	5. Chapter 5

By the time the lift mechanic reaches the scene, there is far more damage to the elevator and surrounding hall than just the reported call button. A chill runs down his spine as he is greeted by the ominous sway of flickering lights, unbound from their place in the ceiling. The strong stench of burning rubber assaults his nostrils. Setting down his bag, he takes out his data pad to assess the situation; his peripheral view alerting him to the Commander's presence. There across the data pad screen are two flashing prompts: “ERROR / “DAMAGE”. 

“No shit,” he whispers under his breath as he stares at the door currently still smoking from the searing attack. He knows that in order to fully understand the severity of the issues, he needs to connect directly to the elevator computer system. This means two things: finding a working panel and restarting the halted car.

On the other side of the hall, Kylo stands… waiting. “How long until it is ready?” he questions. The chilling, robotic voice raises the hairs on the back of the worker's neck.

If it were any other person, the mechanic would laugh from the ridiculousness of it. The cosmetic repair alone will take days, not minutes. The mechanic prides himself on the speed of his repairs, perhaps the fastest in the Order (aside from Rose Tico, who was unavailable to take the call). But he doubts that even she could fix this fast enough for the Commander. 

“I am still assessing, Commander Ren. I will need to move to another floor to access a working panel. I will return when I have news.” The mechanic is grateful for the chance to distance himself from the sinister leader.

“No, I will go too,” Kylo states. The news drains the blood from the mechanic's face.

“Very well, Sir,” replies the man trying to hide his growing panic. Still frozen in place, he watches as Kylo turns the wrong way down the hall. It hits him that this is a common floor, typically unused by anyone above a Captain’s rank. Despite the assurance in his walk, Kylo did not know where he was going. Seeing his Commander in a rare moment of vulnerability, the mechanic chooses his next words carefully. “Excuse me, Sir.” Kylo stops, but does not turn around. “If you don't mind, I know of a lesser known staircase this way. It will be faster.” He holds his breath, hoping the his Commander accepts the white lie. Kylo turns on his heal and gives a subtle nod, the relieved man leads the way.

With his bag of tools on the floor, the mechanic begins his work and connects his data pad to the intact panel. A restless Kylo peers down the hallway at a congregated stormtrooper group standing at attention, most likely receiving orders. At that moment, the soft rolling of a BB-9E droid passes by his boots. Smirking behind his mask, he jerks his wrist and the droid flies through the air - striking the white armored group, collapsing upon impact. “Direct hit,” Kylo murmurs to himself as the pile of discombobulated troops attempt to regain composure.

As the mechanic works, the man’s tedious thoughts drone on in Kylo's brain. For months he has struggled with sleep, but now he feels as though he could sleep standing up from sheer boredom. But then there is an abrupt pause in the stream of consciousness.

“That’s strange...” he man considers, and Kylo’s interest immediately piques. “So it wasn’t from the damage…huh. No, it was a forced reboot. But how? Nothing was scheduled in the system.”

Within one long stride, Kylo closes the distance between he and the man; grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him up to eye level.

“What do you mean, forced reboot!?”

“I…uh… I’m not sure. Someone would have to be at the mainframe computer to put in the order,” admits the man now convinced his life would end right here in this hallway.

“Where is the elevator now?!” Kylo booms.

Trembling the man looks down at his data pad and gulps, “R6.”

Kylo drops the mechanic to the floor as he thinks aloud, “The cell block. _**The trooper**_.” Looking down at the crumpled man, “I need this lift to move **NOW!** ”

“I’m so sorry, Sir, but... but the system will not restart until it completes the cycle. It’s impossible for me to call the car until it finishes the restart.”

“THEN WHEN?!” Kylo bellows as he uses the force to pick up the mechanics bag. Throwing it across the hall, tools fly out and crash to the floor.

The man, his body twitching in fear, grabs his data pad, “Six minutes, Sir.”

“Six minutes and not a second more,” Kylo warns.

***

Your brain is still reeling from the events with the pilot. As you retrace your steps back to the elevator you recall his firm chest, his satisfied groans, and the skill of his mouth. _Oh that mouth_. In all your years alone, you had never experienced the thorough sensation of shared desire. Typically you are the one emoting pleasure outward, but his ability to pour it back into you left your body craving more. Although you know better, you consider turning around and making the most of the last few minutes alone. 

Suddenly the deafening hum of the machine restarting snaps you from your daydream. Your body freezes as you realize that the elevator is no longer a getaway option, it was never an option. Of all the planning to reach the cell, you didn't consider how you would escape without the elevator. Running into Kylo Ren wasn’t part of the plan. With the whirring elevator back in service and the numbers noted above getting lower, Kylo would be arriving at any moment. There is no way you could face him again, your energy is too spent to try and control any more emotions. No, your only way out is to run and hide until the coast is clear. You turn towards a nearby hall and a patrol guard instantly detects you.

“Explain yourself,” states the suspicious guard. As he marches closer, the remnants of your escapades with Poe waft off of you, weakening his knees with each step. “Wow… I… ummm…,” he babbles incoherently. Once face to face, he falls to the floor with a thud.

“STAIRS! Where are the stairs?!” you yelp at the convulsing man below you.

He ignores your request and continues his vulgar moans as his mind swirls with pleasure. He raises a hand, and you barely make out a finger pointing to a door on the far side of the corridor.

Attempting to run, your muscles seize in fatigue. You feel as though your body will give out at any moment.

 _"It's too much, I'll never make it... **No! Stay positive!"**_ You will yourself to keep moving, knowing any damning thought may cripple you. As the door opens your heart sinks. There, on the other side of the door is darkness, not even a glimmer of light. This can't be right. Backing away from the door you hear the elevator ding open and the mumble of voices. You throw yourself across the threshold and pray the zip of the closing door goes unnoticed.

You are now inside the void. Hands stretched outward in hopes of feeling a staircase, you press on. The blinding darkness makes it impossible for your eyes to adjust. The rustle of heavy armor clamors loudly, alerting anyone within earshot of your location. Stripping the dead weight, you continue slinking through the dark hall in your black unitard. Suddenly, the feeling of slick steel on your hand gives way into an opening, you turn and collide at once with rusty bars. It dawns on you. This isn't the way to stairwell, this is the dungeon. These are the cells where forgotten people wait out their last moments. Fear strikes you, and you keel over in weariness. Rest, you need rest. You consider hiding in the empty cell to regain your strength, but decide against it since it would only make capturing you that much easier if you are found. You must keep going.

As you trudge down the black passageway, you hear the swoosh of the door you escaped through. Flinging your body against the wall, you clutch your chest to slow your breathing to a stop. You watch as a tall, back lit figure steps through the doorway, your eyes unable to make out any details except for the outline of a helmet. The door shuts, shrouding the room in darkness once again. Your pounding heart echoes in your ears, until the sound is abruptly eclipsed by the thud of heavy footsteps. The stomping grows louder, nearer, and you decide to make peace with your fate. This is the end, there is no where to run, and you allow your defeated body to slide down the wall in surrender. Right before you reach the floor a cold, powerful hand snatches your arm.

Into the darkness you cry, “Please! Please understand… I was just trying to help!”

“Hello Master Y/N. _*Beep Beep_ Current status - satisfactory. No need for service,” informs the Security droid, recognizing you.

Crying with relief you pull the humanoid-shaped droid into a hug. Your heart swells with gratitude and before you can calm your already spent emotions, your unconscious body collapses into the robotic arms.


	6. Chapter 6

Jim, the terrified elevator mechanic, busies himself on his data pad, desperate to try and convince the impatient Kylo that he was actively working to fix the elevator (despite there being nothing he could do). His heart sinks as he watches the coordinates of the elevator move past the current location to a commander’s floor above; those floors always taking priority over the common floors. With the six minutes up, Kylo reaches a gloved hand for the man's shoulder.

Just then the lift returns and the door opens to Lieutenant Mitaka flanked by two stormtroopers. Mitaka, Kylo hates Mitaka, the sniveling lackey of General Hux. Kylo clenches his jaw at the unwelcome annoyance and enters the crowded car. 

“Commander Ren,” nods the Lieutenant, his tone firm as if speaking to a peer - obviously trying to show leadership in the presence of the two troopers.

Kylo ignores the empty greeting and motions to the panel to press his floor, but sees it is already lit. “Hmm. You are going to R6?” He immediately regrets the question, as it opens the door to further conversation.

“Yes, Sir," says the Lieutenant, eager to show his productivity to the apathetic Commander. "The troopers on that floor have failed to update their status. It is most likely a delay in the Comm System, but it is protocol for an officer to check and maintain order.”

Ruminating on this new information, Kylo knows it is not a comm delay… it is the rogue stormtrooper. It has to be. The more he considers the actions of the trooper, making fools of both he and the Order, the more uneasy he becomes. He shifts his stance and tries to push the agitation of a potential force sensitive trooper out of his mind, instead focusing on the task at hand - the Pilot.

The elevator door opens on R6 to reveal another solitary stormtrooper in Kylo’s path. Except this one is flailing on the ground, moaning as he humps inappropriately against the floor. The two men behind Lieutenant Mitaka snort loudly as they attempt to hold in a laugh.

A visibly startled Mitaka blinks in confusion, then lets out a shaky command, “FN-1165, stand and explain yourself.” Despite the order, the thrashing resumes.

Incensed, Kylo turns toward Lieutenant Mitaka and the stormtroopers, “Are all you little shits defective?!” 

Attempting to regain the appearance of control, Mitaka quickly motions to the troopers at his side. “Get him up!” NOW!"

Kylo huffs. Choosing not to wait, he uses his long legs to step over the gyrating body. Before he completes the stride, he stops short to smash his heel into the troopers outstretched hand. Expecting a howl of suffering, Kylo looks down to see that the man appears to be impervious to the pain, solely fixated on his invisible pleasure. Jaw clenched in anger, he twists his weight deeper into the cracking bones; but still no reaction. At the faint sound of a gulp, Kylo looks up and is relieved to see a frightened Mitaka, quaking in fear. Lowering his helmet to the edge of the man's forehead, Kylo makes one final comment, “Take control of your fucking men or these won't be the only bones I break today.” The terror in Mitaka's eyes satisfies Kylo and he turns to leave. His thick black boots march onward with determination down to the cell, as the sound of armor hitting the steel floor echoes throughout the hallway.

Just before entering the interrogation room, Kylo steadies himself - reconnecting with his innermost darkness, only to hear the rustling of armor to his back right. Perturbed with the constant interruptions, he pivots just in time to see two other languid troopers attempting to rise to attention. Kylo growls furiously and uses the Force to jerk one trooper to him. “Enough of these antics! I want answers!” The trapped trooper tries to nod in compliance but is unsuccessful against the hold of the Force. 

Not waiting for a reply, Kylo continues, “I want to see all security footage of this cell and hall!” 

“Y y y… Yes. Yes, sir.” Regaining his faculties at the release of the hold, the guard fumbles with his data pad and types furiously. He pauses and his shoulders drop before looking up, “There is no video sir. An order was placed to cease recording.”

“Who put in the order?” Kylo’s deep voice speaks slowly as he twists the hand by his hip. The guard feels an invisible strength circling his throat, and gulps.

“WHO PUT IN THE ORDER?!” Kylo asks again as his free hand latches to his sabor. The other trooper takes a step backward. 

The frozen trooper stumbles over his words. “It’s… it's… mmm my… my login code, but I…I… I don’t remember-” before he can finish his admission, Kylo tightens his fist and thrusts out his arm; the unforgiving Force propelling the strangled man into a nearby wall, already dead before impact. Hearing a gasp, Kylo turns his attentions to the other guard.

“Tell your General to get his ass down here! His inability to lead is turning the Finalizer into a circus and **I AM NOT AMUSED**.” Kylo hisses. He takes a step forward as a door to the cell opens. Right away his brain fogs with the oddest sensation. Even odder is the prisoner, asleep on the table, a contented smile glued to his face. This would typically annoy the Commander, like everything else about this day, but his emotions stay steadfast in a satisfied, almost sensual, calm.

“Wake, now.” Kylo orders coolly as he wields the force to jostle the prisoner’s head to attention. “I had no idea we had the best pilot in the Resistance on board… Comfortable?” The comment is meant to be a jeer, but observing the prisoner’s sated state, it appears to be true.

“I’ve been better,” admits Poe shrugging his shoulders, still hazy from his euphoric high.

“I’m impressed,” Kylo continues as he saunters toward the trapped man as an enigmatic heat fills his torso. An urge to touch Poe's chiseled cheek makes his fingers twitch. Clenching his fist, he fights the compulsion. “No one has been able to get it out of you… what you did with the map.”

“You might want to rethink your technique,” Poe smirks. He closes his eyes and takes in a full breath, losing himself in a thought, “The uh… Lady interrogator.” He sighs out, gently shaking his head, ”Hoo… yeah. I would have given her anything, and given it to her good.” He chuckles through his nose before focusing back on Kylo, “You on the other hand… aren’t really my type. But by the look of those tight pants, it seems I’m yours.”

“ENOUGH!” An embarrassed Kylo silences the smug pilot. Without another word, he hovers his palm over Poe’s mind, untangling and unearthing images from his brain. The first image he pulls loose is a memory from minutes earlier. It is one of arousal and pleasure, and Kylo finds it too enticing to ignore. However the memory is blurry and the face of the initiator, a woman, isn’t clear. Only her mewls are heard. 

_“This has to be a dream,”_ Kylo reasons to himself, _“but it looks too real.”_ Tantalizing goosebumps dance across Kylo’s sensitive skin. Suddenly the quiet room fills with a hedonistic sigh, his own - at once alerting him to his mental voyeurism. Kylo scolds himself for lingering too long on this diversion, as tempting as it might be. With a groan forming in his chest, he clears his throat and digs deeper until the image of a droid in the desert is made clear.

***

After reading the same paragraph four times, Rose throws her book to the floor. “Agh! Where the kriff is she?!” With every distraction failing, she opts to visit the refresher. Trying her best to keep a positive mood, like her best friend, she encourages herself, “Everything is okay. Y/N will be back at any moment.” Grabbing her robe, she repeats the affirmations to herself all the way to the refresher room. 

However upon her return, her hopeful smile fades when she sees a still empty bedroom. Dejected, she flings herself onto her bed, only to feel a buzzing against her chest. Scrambling the bedding out of the way, she pulls out her data pad, alerting her to a message. Eyes closed, she prays it is you as her fingers open the screen. Unfortunately it isn't Y/N. It is a work notification from her manager, **“Emergency Call - Please report to the machine space of vertical transport 101A for an internal investigation.”**

“Shit!” Rose's mind races. This is bad. This is very very bad. An internal investigation could point to her, and she knows she has to reach the assignment first to name another cause and sway suspicion. Zipping up her plain gray jumpsuit, she shoves her wet hair into a hat, and runs to the incident.

At the scene, her eyes widen to see the other Portside Lift tech already working. _“Damn it, I’m too late.”_ She takes a deep breath before greeting her peer, “Hey Jim. What’s the situation?”

“Thank Kriff you’re here,” he motions down to the data pad screen to share his findings. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s a forced reboot flagged from the Electromechanical interlock, but all of the inner parts report back as stable. I’ve tried running different test scenarios virtually, but nothing is coming up. It looks like one of us will have to board the car ceiling to manually inspect.” His eyes slowly look up to stare at Rose. “So?”

“You want me to do it?! Why not a droid?” Rose asks nervously. Due to the advanced technology of the self-diagnostic computer systems and the aid of droid techs, Rose never had to enter a hoistway. Even in the apprentice program, manual checks of this nature were only discussed theoretically. 

“One is already in the pit, checking for anything out of the ordinary. The other was crushed, remember? Hasn’t been replaced yet.”

Rose recalls seeing the gnarled pieces of the recovered droid on top your worktable after it got twisted into the rails. She shudders before pointing her finger at Jim, “Why not you?”

“Hell no! I had to babysit Commander Ren on Common Deck C2 for nearly a half hour. That’s way more dangerous than the hoistway. It’s your turn,” declares Jim, holding out a flimsy harness to his partner.

“This is pointless… I already know the origin of the error,” Rose lets slip as she throws her exasperated arms in the air, refusing the harness.

“You do? How?” questions Jim, eyes narrowing.

Rose bites her lip, knowing if she says anymore she will implicate herself. She tries to think of an excuse, any excuse to explain the reboot, but nothing comes out of her mouth.

“Just as I thought, you don’t know either.” Smug in his assertion, he ends up throwing the harness at Rose.

Rose catches the belt against her chest. “Uh. Fine.” As she buckles herself in, cursing under her breath with each motion, Jim calls the car to their floor.

“You’re chariot awaits,” he teases. Rose glares at him, she’s in no mood for jokes.

“I need a boost,” she huffs. Jim helps her through the hatch door of the car ceiling. Looking beyond the sling, her heart quickens as she takes in the seemingly endless vertical shaft downward. She gulps. As she steadies her feet on the roof of the car she calls down nervously, “Jim! Make sure the car is halted! I’m not dying because you forgot to click a button.”

“No can do. We have orders to keep it in service while we fix the issue. But don’t worry, I’ve kept the speed locked at 2 MGLTs.”

Rose drops back down to her knees and grips the edge of the open hatch, “WHAT?! You can’t be serious?!” she yells to her unconcerned partner, nose down in the data pad - oblivious to her distress.

Finally looking up he gives her a cocky grin and laughs, “What’s that? You want me to make it faster? Okay…”

“Just lock the damn car, Jim!” Rose’s terrified yelp echoes throughout the expanse.

But he only shakes his head, “Sorry. Superior officers are using this system. Direct orders not to halt service.”

“Fuck you and fuck orders,” Rose grits her teeth.

“Now that is no way to speak to the man holding the controls. Seriously, calm down. It’s going to be fine. I doubt you’ll even be up there long enough to-,” he pauses and all teasing stops. The elevator dings. “Oh… um… it’s been called to R6.”

“Kriff no! Pause it! I’m coming down, we will finish this later,” she says, cautiously lowering a leg through the hatch door. But it is too late, the doors begin to close.

“STOP!” warns Jim through remaining sliver of the doorway, “…it’s too dangerous! Just hang on!” The door shuts and the mechanism next to her begins to click ominously. With the rumble of motion, Rose quickly closes the rustling hatch door and lays flat against the car ceiling, careful to avoid any moving parts. In an instant, she attaches her harness to a corner hook and wraps her arms protectively about her head. 

“This can’t get any worse,” she cries to herself. After a few minutes pass, the car comes to a stop, and she lets out a sigh of relief. She decides to ride back to her floor in the safety of the car. But before she can unhook her tether, in walks two reasons to stay put.

***

After a successful, and strangely gratifying search through the prisoners brain, Kylo at last has what he is looking for. With this step of mission complete, he calls the elevator - ready to end this day once and for all. With the elevator slower than normal, a now present General Hux has time to wrap up his conversation with Lieutenant Mitaka and makes his way next to the Commander. Kylo sneers under his helmet.

“Have you finally taken control of your men? Or does a real leader need to set them in line?” mocks Kylo as the lift door opens. Simultaneously both men take a step inside, shoulders colliding, refusing to be second to the other. As the elevator moves, Kylo looks about the cabin, sensing something out of place, but sees nothing.

“Lieutenant Mitaka is convinced it is a gas leak, no doubt from one of your _**many**_ destructive outbursts,” states Hux, his face frozen in disdain. “And you? Did you finally retrieve the information that we all have been waiting for? Or are you too busy whining about troopers?”

Kylo ignores the slight, “It’s in a droid. A BB Unit.”

“Well then,” General Hux smirks, “If it’s on Jakku, we shall soon have it.”

“I leave that to you.” The cabin goes quiet as the two men stand silently in their hatred. A minute passes before Kylo continues, “And Hux, I want FN-2102 found and detained. I need to have a word with her.”

Above the car, Rose hears the name of the trooper and her mind instantly flashes to the moment she placed the helmet on your head. She scoots closer to the small perforated metal window into the cabin just in time to see the General pull out a portable Comm Link System.

“Status needed on FN-2102,” states Hux into the microphone.

“Yes, sir,” replies a voice through the speaker. “FN-2102 is currently in the med bay unconscious. Unlikely to wake, Sir.”

General Hux motions to Kylo before answering. “Commander Ren requests the trooper be detained.”

“She is immobilized, Sir. Both legs have been broken. Should we continue with customary protocol?”

“Not yet. Since Commander Ren has taken an interest, wait for removal until he gives word.” Hux turns off the comm link and turns to Kylo, “My gift to you.”

As the harrowing words rise up to unknown hitchhiker above, Rose clutches her face and tries to hold in a scream. Despite her mouth staying shut, her watery eyes watch as Kylo’s helmet snaps to the attention of the hatch. Their eyes meet through the tiny holes of the metal gate and Rose gasps. Startled, General Hux looks up to see what has caught the Commander’s attention.

“You!” Scolds the General, “Get down here and explain yourself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * A few lines between Kylo/Poe and Kylo/Hux are borrowed from The Force Awakens.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this fanfic last week, so everything is still formulating. Notes are scattered everywhere... back of receipts, phone notes, etc. I have gone back to edit a few things here and there to help with readability and the storyline (Chapter 4 was partially rewritten). I hope to have two more chapters posted by end of day tomorrow.

With Hux’s order still hanging in the air, Rose’s eyes dart around the confinements of the hoistway, desperate for another way out. Yet every creative option her brain proposes likely ends in death. No way out but through the cabin filled with the two most terrifying men of the Order. Her body, heavy with fear, begs to remain still as she remains prostrate on the car ceiling. A sudden bang of a fist below her finally propels her body to move as she maneuvers to unhook her harness. At the same time, she uses the thick edge of her boot to slip under the metal lip of the latch door and kicks it open with a stifled grunt. In by inch, she scoots her frame over the edge; her bottom half lowering into the car. Breviped, but sturdy legs swing back and forth searching for anything to help her down: a hand, a ledge, a wall... but nothing comes to her aid. Instead, the two men below step to the side of the cabin, unconcerned with her struggle. Wincing, she braces for impact as she drops to the cabin floor with a thud. A sharp pain from her ankle shoots through her, nearly toppling her back to the ground. However, the pain is nothing compared to the dull ache in her heart at the thought of losing her friend. In an effort not to show weakness, she bites the soft flesh of her inner cheek and stands at attention, pushing through the agony.

“Commander. General,” she nods to both, “Forgive my intrusion. My team and I are running a manual diagnostic check on the electromagnetic interlock and it’s interaction with the jack. We were informed to keep the lift moving for service.”

Rose watches General Hux’s upper lip tense tightly in frustration. In her peripheral, Commander Ren remains unmoved. 

“And yet you failed to consider the aid of a service droid, placing both the inhabitants and yourself in danger.” Hux glares at the eavesdropper, who literally fell from the sky. Determining she is either an innocent idiot or an unpracticed spy - his entire expression sours further as he looks down on the woman, awaiting her response.

“Destroyed in action, sir. My team and I thought it best not to wait for a replacement due to importance of this lift system, 101A.” Rose states with a curt nod, shaking her entire body, causing her foot to send a fresh signal of stinging pain to her fluttering eyes.

Hux opens his mouth to speak, but the rare sound of Kylo humming approvingly catches him off guard. Both he and Rose instantly turn to the Commander who waits a moment before responding.

“Resourcefulness… a trait currently lacking in Hux’s troopers. Perhaps you could give him a few pointers.” The robotic timber of his voice altering helmet fails to fully mask the arrogance in his insult.

Immediately General Hux folds his arms into his chest in defense and huffs through his nose, “Commander Ren, after the incident in the hanger, these shortcuts can no longer be tolerated. There is protocol…”

Kylo puts up his hand to prevent the General from finishing his thought and turns his mask to Rose.

Recognizing that a spat between leaders is unseemly in front of a crew member (despite Commander Ren starting it), the General surrenders his thought. He looks back to Rose, his jaw clenches with a forced smile as his hand flies back behind him to hit the stop button. Eyes never leaving the technician, he states, “Very well. You may exit now and continue your work once the Commander and I reach the bridge.”

“Of course. Thank you, Sir.” Rose backs through the open door, nodding lowly.

“And tech, I want a thorough report submitted to base in the next six hours to run against records.”

Rose bows again in compliance and the doors close. Head still down, the heels of her hands push against her eyes as she chokes back a cry. With a strained breath in she stands upright. She knows what she has to do.

With no time to waste, she hustles through the pain to make her way to the med bay. Unconvinced of the diagnosis, she goes to see you for herself. No, it has to be the trooper whose uniform you stole. 

As she limps through the empty lobby of the clinic moves her way past the swinging door to the inpatient units. Reading the patient names on the doors, she stops frozen when she sees “FN-2102.” Afraid of what she might find, Rose pushes on the locked door. 

“Gah! No!” she lets out in a strained whisper as she rests her head against the door. The repetitive sound of robotic tracks against a tiled floor slowly grows nearer, stopping only once directly at her left side.

“You are not authorized to be in this area,” states a medical droid, nearly bumping into Rose to push her out. Standing her ground, Rose presses her back to the door. She will not leave without knowing for sure.

Rose motions down to her now swollen ankle. “But my foot...”

“Minor Occupational health issues care resolved in the urgent care down the hall. You must leave.”

“But… I… um.” 

**_Click._ **

Startled, Rose looks down to the moving door handle and takes a step back as it opens. There in the small crack of the door stands a purple skinned Keshiri doctor in a white lab coat, face indifferent to the surprise of an intruder. Rose maneuvers her neck to peer past the doctor standing in the way. Through the bent arm of the doctor is the picture of a woman, face obscured by an oxygen mask and deep purple bruising covering all exposed skin. Aside from the heart wrenching scene of a battered body, Rose's breath catches when she sees the hair… it’s your color. It’s you.

“My my… so much interest in this patient today,” Dr. Pel’tik raises his hands up and pulses, motioning for Rose to back up. “Look, nothing has changed in the past half hour when I gave my report to Petty Officer Ollan. Unless you have orders from Commander Ren to terminate, there is nothing left to do.” His expression attempts a comforting smile, but it contorts into a callous straight line across his face instead. He cocks his neck as gloved hand raises to stroke his chin, “I will admit, after that pressure malfunction in the hanger, everyone on guard was deemed lost to space. If she wasn’t scheduled to die any minute, it would almost be a miracle. _Unless..._ ”

Rose cuts him off to prevent him from finishing that thought, “But what if she wakes up?”

The doctor lets out an amused huff before instantly correcting his tone, “She is not going to wake up. The trauma to her brain stem is irreparable. Been that way since a security droid brought her in.”

The medical droid hovering over Rose scolds the doctor, “Excuse me Dr. Pel’tik , but patient information is confidential according to policy number 15-”

The impatient man harshly cuts off the robot, “Spare me space junk, I not even supposed to be on call today.” 

Rose lets out a small whimper and the doctor sets a hand on her shoulder in a halfhearted attempt to be reassuring.

“Must've been a friend of yours, huh?” he says, feigning interest.

Rose nods as she uses her sleeve to wipe away the tears from her eyes.

“Sorry about that, but I do have some good news,” he says and Rose perks up, “At least it’s not you, right?” Rose yanks her shoulder away from the man’s hand in disgust. The annoyed doctor rolls his eyes, which settle on Rose’s swelling ankle. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a small bottle and pours out four green pills into other hand.

“Here. Take these. It’ll take the edge off of that foot of yours. Go on.” Dr. Pel’tik hands two pills to Rose and stares her down until she swallows them. Satisfied that his work here is complete, he ingests the other two pills and his face at last reveals a genuine smile.

“Excuse me, Dr. Pel’tik,” the droid continues, “but according to policy number 62115, medicinal dispensing requires…”

“Hey! Go be useful and count the bedpans again,” He sternly yells to the droid as he points his finger down the hall. “And you”, his serious tone continues, “Time to go. I have no time for tears.” He locks the door. His shoulder bumps into Rose as he goes into the patient room across the hall.

Rose makes the most of the spare moment alone to place her hand on the door, “Goodbye friend. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.” As Rose cries into the collar of her shirt, the influence of the green pills takes hold. Her body swells with a bubbly lightness, and the pain in her foot all but disappears. With her renewed sense of strength, Rose vows to herself that she will not stay a moment longer aboard this death trap.


	8. Chapter 8

With the warmth of Y/N’s shared memories fading, FN-2187 tosses and turns in his bed. He attempts to reignite those pleasurable thoughts on his own, but fails. They are not his thoughts to recall, but yours. Doom settles in his chest. Now that he has experienced fulfillment, reawakening that little bit of his soul not yet crushed by the Order, normal life now feels devastating. Staring at the ceiling, he worries it is simply a matter of time before they catch on to his transformation and turn him in for reconditioning, _or worse_. Anxious thoughts swell in his mind as he imagines guards outside his door right now, ready to take him away. His muscles seize in terror at the mere idea of it.

**POUND. POUND. POUND.**

“Shit!,” FN-2187 nearly jumps from his skin at the urgent beating of the door. His whole body shakes as he dares to answer the door. Barely cracking the doorway, he peers out but sees nothing. Convinced that his mind is playing a trick on him, he presses his shoulder into the door to close it. However, right at the last moment, the tip of a work boot blocks the closure and he steps back in dread. The door giving way, Rose slinks inside and shuts the door behind her. Relief washes over FN-2187, accompanied by confusion. 

"Rose, it’s 4 in the morning. What are you doing here?” FN-2187 asks in a strained whisper as Rose paces within the modest room, mumbling to herself. She halts in her tracks.

“Remember when you told me you had a plan to escape?” Rose asks as she captures his arms, her fingernails digging into his triceps. “Still planning too?”

“Geez Rose,” he brushes her arms off of him and proceeds to rub his temple. “Look, I know it was a bad idea. You don’t have to keep bringing it up. I know better now.”

“Forget what I said!” she says, her eyes wild with urgency. “I need you to tap back into that feeling. We have to get off this ship!” Without waiting for a response, Rose makes her way back to the door, certain he is only a step behind.

“Whoah Whoah Whoah slow down. What’s going on?” FN-2187 sits on his bed, resistant to the orders of his alarmed friend.

“There’s no time. Y/N is gone. We have to go now!”

“What do you mean gone?” FN-2187 keeps his face stoic, but tamps down the feelings of guilt and panic gnawing at his insides. Rose hurries back over to him and once again pulls at his arm. 

“She tried to help that pilot. The one _YOU_ told her about,” she thrust her finger into his chest. “Something went wrong. I knew she wasn’t ready.” Rose chokes on her words, but shakes her head, determined to keep going. 

“Just because she isn’t back yet doesn’t mean something is wrong.” FN-2187 grasped her wrist to pull away the accusatory finger. 

“I saw her. She’s…. she’s… not going to wake up. I know what that means. If you don’t wake up, they dispose of you. Would have done it already if it weren’t for Com…” Rose cuts herself off, her emotions pulling her in every direction. She spins in agitation, throwing her arms in the air. “Agh! Just tell me you know how to get off this ship!”

“Slow down. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I asked her to intervene, but escape means we will probably die trying.

“We are dead if we stay. When I turn in my lift report to base, they are going to run it against historical records. It’s going to point back to me… that I helped Y/N.” She grabs at him again, tears pooling in her red, swollen eyes. “Please! We have to try.”

Mouth twisting in contemplation, he begins to nod slightly; each nod growing stronger and more resolute, “Okay, I’m in. Can you fly a tie fighter?”

“Seriously? You’re the trooper. Can’t you?”

“No,” FN-2187 grabs his helmet from the hook. “But I know someone who can. Meet me in Terminal A1 in 30.”

***

FN-2187 marches into the pilot’s cell and addresses the guard, “Ren wants the prisoner.” Poe watches as the shackles release from his sore wrists before looking up to the stormtrooper. Concern grows as he wonders what Ren wants with him. FN-2187 binds the pilot’s wrists together and grabs the top of his coat. “Get moving,” he commands as the barrel of his blaster pokes into Poe’s ribs. The tight, unused muscles in Poe’s legs snap with each painful step.

“Turn here,” FN-2187 aggressively shoves Poe into an open closet. The small security light hanging overhead washes them in blue and gray shadows. Instantly the trooper’s tone changes, “Now listen carefully… if you do exactly as I say I can get you out of here.”

“What?” Disoriented, Poe cocks his head in confusion. FN-2187 rips off his helmet to show the sincerity of his words. Beads of sweat drip from his forehead as he locks eyes with the prisoner.

“This is a rescue. I’m helping you escape. Can you fly a tie fighter?”

Poe thrusts his face closer to FN-2187 as a renewed sense of determination overcomes him, “I can fly anything.”

“Good, let’s go,” FN-2187 responds as he shoves the helmet back into place.

“Wait,” Poe stops in his tracks, “The woman trooper. I don’t know her name, but we have to take her with us.”

“There’s no time for this. Come on.” FN-2187 pushes his blaster back into the man, each centimeter deeper into his flesh a threat.

“We have to try…” Poe says quietly, ignoring the weapon bruising his stomach.

“You’re too late, she’s already dead. Now move.” FN-2187 freezes a moment at the realization. Y/N is really gone.

Poe shakes his head and scoffs, “I don’t buy it. I still feel her… here.” He pounds his tied hands against his chest, his eyes pleading with the trooper to believe him.

FN-2187 forcefully grabs the pilot by the jacket, “You’re gonna feel the heat of a blaster if we don’t leave **NOW**!”

***

On the other side of the ship, your eyes flutter open. Your vision remains blurry as a migraine beats within your skull. After a failed attempt at speaking, your parched lips let out a moan. The steel hand of a medic droid presses gently on your shoulder as another doting droid offers you water.

“Rest,” says the droid to your right as he injects a blue substance into your arm. “It will all be over soon.”

“But I…” you gulp. Despite wanting an explanation, you give into the order and close your eyes with a muffled sigh. The sounds of droids beeping around you grow dimmer and dimmer as you slowly drift off.

***

 _Beep_  
_Beep_  
_Beep_

With every light flashing and each signal screeching, the bridge of the Finalizer is ablaze with chaos as a runaway tie fighter fires upon the massive ship.

“Sir, they’ve taken out our turbo lasers,” states a helmsman to the passing General Hux.

“Use the ventral cannons,” directs the General to the nearby Lieutenant Mitaka. At that moment, Commander Ren storms onto the bridge, his black hooded cape billowing behind him.

“General Hux. Is it the resistance pilot?” asks Ren, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, and he had help from two of our own. We’re checking the registers now…”

“The one from the village, FN-2187. And the other… it has to be FN-2102.”

“What?,” General Hux does a double take at the shear ridiculousness of the notion, ”No! She’s dead, or nearly. You heard it yourself. She’s in the med bay.” Hux directs his attention to a bridgeman to confirm his claim. After consulting the data pad, the man glances up with a nod.

“The threat has returned. I _sense_ it.” Ren responds as General Hux rolls his eyes.

“Sir! Ventral cannons hot,” Lieutenant Mitaka intervenes.

“Fire!” Howls the General as his head snaps to the window.

 **“NO.** ” Orders Ren, “No, let them go, they will lead us directly to the droid.”

Mitaka’s hand hesitates over the operations button as he watches the General for a signal, “Sir?”

“Cease fire,” The General scowls. Walking right up to Ren, his words dripping with rage, “You better be right.” But before he can finish his warning, Commander Ren has turned to leave. “Where are you going?”

“Med Bay.”


	9. Chapter 9

Green arms weighted down with files, Dr. Viridian (of the Vorzydiak species) trudges down to the hall to the clinic. With its expendable view of life, being a First Order doctor is fairly straightforward. While in school, Dr. Viridian practiced complicated procedures, diagnosed bizarre illness, and prepared for mass triage. But life aboard the Finalizer was far more routine. Updating patient files and managing medical droids fills the bulk of her day. However, there was nothing normal about the past week. The med bay was overrun with stormtroopers, both stationed and sickly. The flurry of recent cases would have been exciting if it weren’t for the dark shadow lurking though the clinic; watching every move - demanding answers. 

Dr. Viridian turns the corner and sighs. There on either side of the entrance stands two stormtroopers blocking her way in. One steps out of the way, but is brought back to center by his uncompromising peer.

“Credentials required,” orders one trooper, intent on following protocol. 

“We went through this yesterday guys… and the day before that. You know me, please just let me in.” She watches as he shakes his head sternly. “Ugh, fine.” Fumbling with the files, she pushes them into the crook of one arm. While unbalanced, she attempts to reach into her pocket for her ID, only to drop the files across the floor. Slumping her shoulders in frustration, she shows her badge to the guards before bending down to gather her scattered belongings.

“Not even going to help me, huh?” She sees the men shift in their stance as they consider her request, but remain standing. From the reflection of her data pad, she sees one trooper shake his head, preventing the more sympathetic of the two from assisting. Although disorganized, the Doctor gathers her files and makes her way through the unblocked door.

“Have a good day, Doc,” replies the kinder stormtrooper. 

She lets out a scoff, “No thanks to you two.”

Dr. Viridian walks deeper into the clinic lobby and sets her belongings on the front desk. At once her green antennae bob to the sense of the other doctor rounding the corner, discretely popping a pill into his mouth. Catching eyes with Dr. Pel’tik, the Keshiri, from across the room, she shoots him a look and motions her head toward the inpatient rooms. Doctor Pel’tik sucks in his lips and nods his head in silent exasperation. Dr. Viridian quickly closes the distance between the two professionals.

“Still?” she whispers, immediately looking around to check for unwanted company. Satisfied that they are alone, she proceeds, “You said yesterday that you were going to inform him that we required the bed space and resources for the troops injured on Jakku.”

The doctor lets out a blunt laugh, “We both know what happens when someone questions the Commander. I’ve treated those patients. Don’t need to experience a saber burn for myself to know it hurts.” With a weary sigh, he rests his hand on his college’s shoulder, “Let’s just say I went with a more subtle approach.”

“Guess I was just hopeful this nightmare would be over by now,” she leans in closer. “I just don't understand it. For days now he comes in and just stands there staring… convinced she will wake up.”

“I have a feeling Commander Ren will see it from our perspective soon enough,” he states vaguely before adding under his breath with a sly smile, “I’ve made sure of it.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Dr. Viridian searches the doctor’s face for answers. She knows her college isn't the most professional, or empathetic - most likely hardened from years of service to the order. Yet, she cares for him and hopes he feels the same. After a year of working together (attempting to build a relationship), she learned to overlook his penchant for pain relievers and alcohol in an attempt to try and find the good in him. Despite his self harm, he would never harm a patient. _Right?_ Shaking the preposterous thought from her mind, she looks back at her peer with a curious gaze, assured that he would never place anyone in danger intentionally.

“The less you know, the better,” Dr. Pel’tik shoots a mischievous wink. He pats her on the back dismissively, “Well, he's your problem now. I’ve clocked out.” He takes off his coat and hangs it on a nearby wall hook and covertly tucks a pill bottle into his trouser pocket, “There’s a drink or two out there with my name on it.”

Before taking another step, Dr. Viridian reaches for his hand and gives a delicate squeeze, “Be safe.”

“I’ll be just fine," he says with a stilted chuckle, "It’s you that should be on guard.” Without another word, Dr. Pel’tik leaves for the bar. Dr. Viridian expels a deep breath, blowing the fringe from her giant eyes as she shuffles into the inpatient hall.

***

The shrill of steel scraping steel from the opening blades of the industrial fan alerts your senses. You clench your eyes as you try to keep the throbbing ache in your head to a tolerable level. A blast of cool air washes over your exposed body. Shivering, you bring your arms to your chest and are stunned by the roughness of scabs and the stickiness of bacta cream that covers your skin. Horrified, your eyes scan your body. The treated burns of your arms extended to the outer parts of your legs, where the thin protection of your black unitard has ripped away. Mind racing, you open your mouth to speak when a familiar sound silences you to listen. Eyes wincing from the light overhead, you see hanging droid parts clinking together.

“The repair room? Was it all a dream?,” You ask yourself aloud, your voice raspy from disuse. Your fingers continue to assess your battered body as a medical droid limps over to your work table turned bed. You instantly recognize the droid as one you had nearly finished repairing earlier.

“2-1B, what… what is going on?” you question as you reach out to hold the cold mechanical fingers of the caring droid.

“Security droid SF-98 found you unresponsive on floor R6 and brought you here,” the robot answers. Both of your heads turn to see a sentry droid rolling up, delivering a plate of food. The medical droid picks up the plate and places it next to you. “Eat.”

Picking up a rations bar, you feel your body shake with uncertainty. “But how am I here? Why didn’t SF-98 turn me in?”

“You were in distress. SF-98 brought you here to be fixed.”

“But why? Where is he now? I have questions, so many questions.” You say, still unclear of the events from the dungeon of R6 to the repair room. 2-1B points to the corner of the room where an offline droid rests in pieces, wires frayed and armor plates missing. Overcome with shock, your hand flies to cover your mouth as you look back to the medic.

“What?! I don’t understand.” Swinging your legs over the edge of the table, you attempt to stand and make your way to the broken droid, the urge to repair him propelling you on. However, your feet fail you and you wobble uncontrollably as the hand of the medic holds you steady against the edge of the table.

“SF-98 brought you here by Pneumatic Tube System to avoid detection. With the addition of your body mass, SF-98 could not fit in the droid canister. Shielding your body for protection, the two of you went through unaided.”

“And I SURVIVED?!” Your mouth gapes open. No one who accidentally entered the droid tubes has ever lived to tell about it. The force of the vacuum, the unforgiving steel walls of the tube… suddenly the burns on your skin make sense. “SF-98 went against protocol,” you look around you, “All of this is outside protocol. It’s not in your programming to deviate.”

“SF-98 and I sensed you were in danger,” answered the droid, whose mechanical hands began applying another layer of bacta to your skin. “To avoid further suspicion, R1-5 has been clocking you in and submitting daily updates. Once healed, all will resume to normal activity.”

“Sense? Updates?” You question the odd speech, but the droid does not respond. Suddenly your mind goes back to the days after your sister’s passing, the days you were desperate for companionship. Here in this little repair room you installed a hidden sentient patch into a few of the droids. You considered it a failure, as there was no change in the computing… until now. It seems as the droids resumed their duties, the more that internal signaling filtered through the patch, slowly building their artificial consciousness. You look around the room to see all the droids in various states of disrepair, tending to your wellbeing. Pressure builds behind your eyes and you throw your arms around 2-1B, expressing joyful tears of gratitude.

“Thank you! Thank you all. You saved me, and I promise I will rebuild all of you! I will start now,” you inform the droids as you pick up a wrench, ready to show your appreciation. Suddenly another thought bombards your brain, “Wait! I should go see Rose and let her know I’m alright. She’s probably worried sick.”

2-1B shakes his head, “Rose is no longer on board. She, FN-2187, and the Resistance Prisoner escaped days ago. They are traitors to The Order.”

The wrench drops from your hand, “What?! She’s gone?” A hollowness swallows your insides and you collapse in on yourself. “She left me?” Your fingers rub at your temples as conflicting thoughts vie for your attention. “She must have been in danger. I wasn’t careful enough, 2-1B. I should have kept going, found her.” You look back at the droid, canvassing the emotionless face for answers.

“I am unsure of how to respond,” informs the medical droid. His head tilts to the side in processing as his hand weighs the canister of medicine, “Bacta ointment at 2%. Your burns require two more 10oz tubes for full restoration. Imust go to the med bay , but I require maintenance before resuming duties.”

“Yes, of course. Please sit.” Back to the task, at hand, you reach for your work goggles. Ignoring the painfully inflamed skin streaking across your body, you set to work on the droid currently perched on the table.

“Y/N?”

You smile at the sound of the sentient droid calling you by your name. Pulling your goggles up, you meet his mechanical eyes, “Yes, 2-1B?”

“Once I am back on the floor, I cannot return. Please send a sentry droid for your ointment. You must resume your care without me.”

Despite the monotone voice, you sense a faint sadness. You rise and rest a caring hand on the droid’s shoulder. You do not remember your mother or know what it means to be one; but in this moment, as pride and thankfulness swell within you, you feel like one.

“After all you have done for me, I will escort you to the clinic myself.” Grinning, you pat the droid’s knee joint before igniting your repair torch. In that single moment, as the machines beep and the torch flicks its healing sparks, all seems normal. Yet the notion that everything beyond the repair door has changed, looms over you. 

***

Dressed in a fresh gray jumpsuit (loose enough to hide your bandaged wounds) you and the droid make your way to the med bay. As you approach, you see the forms of two stormtroopers guarding the door. Your muscles stiffen as you hold back the arm of the droid.

“Why is there security?” you whisper. 

“According to medical records, there is a patient of note currently under treatment,” states S-1B resuming the way forward. After another step, the droid’s inner patch activates, and he recognizes the worry in you. “It will be alright Y/N. With all the attention on the special patient, your presence will unlikely go unnoticed.

“Thank you, S-1B.”

After a few more steps, you catch the attention of the two stormtroopers. Unbeknownst to you, the residual thankfulness in your heart mentally disarms the two guards on patrol. In unison, they both turn to face you and you blurt out an explanation for your visit.

“Droid Tech Y/N, delivering refurbished med droid S-1B.” You watch as the guards look to each other and then back to you.

“Happy to hear it,” states one trooper as they both move away from the door, “Please right this way.” 

“Wow, thank you!” you say, nodding respectfully. You immediately recognize that you are emoting, however your gratitude imprint has never been this intense before. Looking up to the face of your robotic companion, you smile knowing his care has made you even stronger than before.

“No, _thank you!_ ” says a gleeful trooper as you walk into the clinic. The over lit lobby is still and quiet, so you take the time to say your goodbyes to your robotic friend. As you start to speak, you are suddenly interrupted by muffled yelling booming from the other side of the wall.

“ **YOU LET HER DIE?!** ” Screams the voice, followed by the startling sounds of destruction. The piercing screeches of metal crashing and glass breaking vibrate through the wall. Suddenly room goes black. Red emergency lights flicker on as the blaring of an alarm shrieks throughout the room. Instinctively, you reach for the hand of the droid next to you. 

“Perhaps I will return to the repair shop sooner than expected,” jokes S-1B, unfazed by the sudden change in atmosphere. 

The inpatient door flies open and Dr. Viridian frantically looks around the room. Her disheveled hair barely masks the quivering antennae atop her perspiring head. Her eyes land on your gray jumpsuit. With each red flash of light, you tense as you watch the stilted figure inch closer. In the darkness, she seizes your arm. You wince in pain as you attempt to read her lips, unable to hear through all the noise.

 _ **“I SAID…**_ ,” the doctor screams louder as her anxious hand now grasps at her shaking chin. “He’s destroyed a monitor and wants it fixed now. You’re a tech, right? RIGHT?!”

“Yes?” you mouth the words silently, wishing you had said no instead. Every muscle in you screaming to run.

“Okay. Follow me.” The panicked woman leads you through the inpatient door. With each step, the violent noises amplify. You freeze as the doctor passes through the patient room door. Your breath catches in your chest, your vison filled with mayhem unfolding in front of you. Burning shreds of cloth flit through the room as twisted metal and shards of glass cover the floor. The source of the chaos is unseen, but you watch in horror as the doctor cowers. Her frame is aglow with a static scarlet glow and you repeatedly shake your head no and back away. 

Just then, the two stormtroopers once standing guard now race to the scene. The momentum, coupled with their size, lifts you up from your feet and shoves your reluctant body through the threshold of the door. As they separate, they drop you to the glass laden floor. Landing on your side, you hiss in pain. Your flight response begs you to crawl back into the lobby as you slowly peel yourself from the hard ground, careful to avoid the jagged scraps littering the floor.

Attempting to remain unnoticed, you quietly push yourself to the door. Just then the Commander walks into your field of vision, thrashing wildly as he makes his way to the physician. Unable to tear your eyes away, you watch him stop suddenly as he hovers over the trembling doctor. Legs braced in a wide, warrior stance, the man in black growls; his back and shoulders heaving as a rigid arm holds the glowing weapon. He lifts his arm to strike, but pauses. In that second, the doctor makes her escape. You gulp as the Commander stands upright, stretching his wide shoulders back to their full span. Despite the shrieking alarm blaring, the only sound your ears can focus on is his labored breathing becoming steadier - like a predator sniffing out his prey. It is then that his neck slowly turns over his shoulder, the profile of his stony helmet now in full view as he peers down at your writhing body. With another deep breath, he lets out a single word…

_“You...”_


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos! It means so much to me. Actually stood up and did a little dance when I got my first one! 
> 
> I know I haven't lived up to the "explicit" tag yet, but trying to build an interesting story. If your here and you are taking the time to read, thanks.

The scorching heat of the room penetrates your muscles and stirs your blood into a fever. Sweat beads across your body - stinging your blistering skin. Your parched mouth gasps out in pain as your burning limbs stretch across the cool tile beneath you - desperate to soak in the last remnants of cold. As your body melts into the floor, an invisible hold seizes you into stillness. The threat of looming death overwhelms you, and you shut your eyes tight, praying that it’s only a dream. 

_“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!”_ you beg, wishing to return to the cold hard table of the repair room. The sinister hum of the saber echoes in your ears until it suddenly goes silent. Cautiously optimistic that it may be over, you slowly open your eyes only to witness your greatest nightmare walking towards you. Heavy black boots crack bits of glass with each stride. As the force hold loosens, you bow your head in submission, not daring to make eye contact. With a low grunt, the Commander crouches down before you.

“I knew you were alive… _although you won’t be for long_ ,” he warns as he places a gloved finger below your chin to raise your face to meet his own. His voice modulator buzzes as he prepares to speak further, but he hesitates as the eyes behind his helmet scan your features.

As your entire body convulses in terror, another unwelcome sense affronts your mind - **Surprise**. Your eyes dart over his helmet, the thin shield unable to hide his emotions of your presence. The long finger below your chin travels to your cheek, stroking leisurely as his thumb gently swipes at your quivering lips. You take note of his internal struggle as the emotions of anger and curiosity both vie for solitary control of his mind.

Your thoughts race, wondering if there is anything you can say to tip the scales in your favor. At that moment, you sense an unknown feeling beneath the surface of his curiosity. The signal is faint, weak - but still striving to be heard. Before you are able to decipher the emotion, it is choked out - disappearing entirely. You gasp at the sudden loss, torn violently from your mental grasp. Commander Ren detects your intrusion into his being which sets his anger to a boil, surging into his hand as it tightens painfully around your throat. Still fixated on the turmoil within him, you sense that this time the anger is different, a divisive loathing directed inwardly. You push past the pain as you try to dig deeper to understand the source of the sensation, in a attempt to quell it.

A piercing “ **NO!** ” shoots through your brain. You wince in pain at the invasion as the hand against your throat turns rigid, shoving your head to the floor. At once he stands to attention, reigniting the lightsaber by his hip. 

Just then, the door to the patient room flies opens and a blast of tepid air rushes in, followed by General Hux and a throng of stormtroopers. The calm, redheaded man stands directly beside you before addressing the Commander.

“My my Commander Ren, if I didn't know any better I would confuse this med bay for hell itself,” his hand gestures to you, “And this woman one of the damned.” Finally looking down to you, the General continues with a half smile, “That must mean I am your savior.” He huffs out an amused chuckle.

“This doesn’t concern you, Hux,” seethes Commander Ren, who keeps his eyes fixated on you, “Now step aside as I remove this threat.”

 _"Tsk tsk tsk_ , after days of hoping she would wake and you already wish to kill her? Why not just let her die on the table?” General Hux asks nonchalantly. His cavalier attitude makes you gulp as your fate rests in his hands.

“It wasn’t her… but even so, I wanted to dispose of the menace myself.”

“Such a brute, Ren. However, you must reign in your savagery. A direct order from Snoke,” replies the General as he leans back on his heels, his hands clasped behind him.

The comment instantly tears Commander Ren’s attention from you to the General. “How would he know?!”

“Back when your minor obsession started, I kept the Supreme Leader abreast of the situation. I offered that such a unique threat should be studied, not squandered... He agreed.” The General walks nearer to Commander Ren, reveling in the moment of having the upper hand. Now next to the Commander, he glances back to you before continuing his conversation, “That is of course if her _**‘talents’**_ actually exist. If not, then you may do what you wish.”

The room stills as all eyes fall to you, awaiting your action. You nod and take a steadying breath before you summon your injured limbs to stand.

“Show us, girl. If you can,” beckons General Hux. You step towards him and he abruptly puts out a hand. “No, no. On him.” He says as he points past you. You look over to see a trooper anxiously looking back and forth between you and the General, obviously questioning the command. As you approach, he reaches for his blaster.

“Stand down, FN-1113,” declares General Hux, “That’s an order.”

Standing in front of the stranger, you try offering a reassuring smile. The attempt is futile since your body is still surging from fear, exacerbated the growing panic wafting off the man. You question if emoting under this stress is even possible. Shaking the doubt from your mind, you continue. Wrapping your hands delicately around his neck, you pull his helmet down to your lips and exhale. You call upon calming memories: funny moments with Rose, the serenity of working alone in the repair room, and the gratitude of your new robotic comrades. But the memories remain dormant, failing to conjure any semblance of happiness as your brain continues to race. With only one last option, you clear your mind with the concept of nothingness and focus all your energy on the man in front of you. All goes silent as the world around you becomes swallowed in darkness.

After a few minutes the man’s shoulders slump, the hypnotic emotion of oblivion subduing his every thought. Suddenly, his limp body falls to your feet. You stand there emotionless, void of anything. As your senses warm back up from their frozen state, you hear a flurry of movement around you.

“Is he dead?!” asks a fellow trooper from the other side of the room. Another one pushes you aside and checks for a pulse. 

“No... he’s alive,” says the crouched trooper as he reports his findings to the two leaders, restrained in their judgment.

After a pause, Commander Ren bellows, **“Vitals!”**

Dr. Viridian climbs out from beneath a table she was using for cover and rushes to the trooper. Hovering a med sensor over the trooper, she responds, “All vitals are stable. He's only in a deep sleep.”

“It seems we have our very own Empath. Congratulations girl, you just earned a second chance at life - _and I intend to make the very most of it,_ ” says General Hux, a closed-mouth smile stretching across his face. “Very good,” he says to himself, nodding.

Ren huffs, clearly agitated, “Only good if he wakes up.” After a pause, you sense his confidence return as you watch his back straighten into a commanding stance. “I’ve seen enough. Take her to the brig.”

Instantly the General’s smile vanishes as his eyes bulge with concern, **“Wait! What?…“**

“The order is to keep her _alive_ , that is all.” He motions to two guards. At that moment you feel your arms bound, your skin screaming in agony from the unrelenting might of their hold. Your eyes dart to the General, hoping he can still save you from the whims of Commander Ren.

“But that is a death sentence, Ren! She will rot in there,” protests the flustered General, no longer possessing the upper hand.

“Then I suggest you study her talents quickly,” snarks the Commander. His helmet shoots back to your face, taking in one last look as the stormtroopers drag your injured body to the dark recesses of the ship.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: aggressive actions and mentions of self-harm.
> 
> This is my longest chapter to date. I kept revisiting this chapter over the past week, each time making giant edits and adding hundreds of words. It was a huge undertaking, but this chapter sets the tone of future things to come.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

From the hip of the guardsman a small lantern emits a jostled stream of light into the dark corridor - chaotically guiding your path to your new dwelling. Aside from the jangling of his utility belt and the monotone hum of an old enforcer droid behind you, it is quiet. The man doesn’t say a word, but you sense his angry determination through his forceful shoves. He doesn’t know your crime, but he is convinced of your guilt. With one last push, you fall to the cold, damp ground of your cell. The crashing sound of metal bars clangs behind you. _**Trapped.**_

Instinctively you turn back and look to the guard. The low light casts long, face altering shadows upon his ridged brow, magnifying his menacing glare.

“I give you two days,” his gritty voice snarls before spitting at you. Arms fly up to shield your face from the spittle, and you hear the bully laugh at your misery as he makes his way back to the door. You watch the last bit of light grow dimmer until it disappears completely.

With the guard gone, you yell out to the KX-unit patrolling the ward (despite being unsure of his model number).

“Hey, KX! Come back!” You have never worked on a KX series before. In fact, you thought they decommissioned all Old Empire droids, having never seen one before today. Yet, here in the bowels of the ship marched the old-fashioned robot. 

“Quiet Prisoner!” orders the droid as his metal arm clangs threateningly against the bars. Your heart drops in your chest from his abrasive reply. Without the sentient patch embedded in his internal computing system, there is no chance of befriending the only other being in the brig - robotic or not. The KX unit moves on, most likely to another section of the prison.

As the glow of the droid’s eyes fade away, so too does your inner hope. Now alone in the brig, without even the sense of another person, your bravery disintegrates - like little pinpricks assaulting your skin. The muscles in your jaw clench, still attempting to hold back tears in a last ditch effort to refuse your fate. You pull your scuffed knees against your chest, your clothes still tinged with the scent of smoke. 

Thoughts of your sister and what she would do in this moment, fill you with a faint hint of promise. You know exactly what she would do. She would sing, but not just any song - the ancestral song taught you years ago. Neither of you understood the words of the song, the native language is just another mystery of your past. Yet, the fullness of the unknown words in your mouth coupled with the simple melody makes you feel connected to your past in such a way that your present seems peaceful. For a brief moment, the song filling the room wards off the sinking feeling of abandonment.

You lose count of how many times you sing the song. The foreign words all meld together in just one long, drawn-out cry. Inhaling a large breath to keep the melody going, fatigue overwhelms you and your sister’s likeness slowly drifts away as the darkness seeps into your mind. There is no longer a difference between the dark behind your eyelids and the soul-crushing blackness of your cell. Pressing cold finger pads over your eyes to suppress the unrelenting pressure, you succumb to the fear that this is your end. Hope feels lost. Despondency pulling at your every limb, you blink back salty tears and heave out a whimper. Resting your head on your knees, a single tear escapes - quickly followed by deep sorrowful cries. You are alone, already forgotten by the crew working above you.

The loud wails release all the pains you had tried to ignore. The death of your sister, the loss of Rose, the ache of your skin, and the constant fear of death - the emotional toll nearly breaking you. Your mind goes back to Rose and how much you miss her, yet in the deepest part of your heart you are grateful she escaped with FN-2187. Perhaps not all hope is lost, because you find heaps of hope in your heart that they can now build the life they always dreamed. No longer reliant on old memories to find happiness, but creating new ones. This thought quiets your tears and you sniffle a few times as you rub your face against the thin material of your sleeve.

_**Sniff** _

You freeze. That last sniffle wasn’t yours. You clench your knees tighter, stilling yourself into silence. Someone else was here.

“Hello?” you call out meekly, but there is no answer. You clear your throat and try again, “HELLO?” But the silence remains… except was that the sound of footsteps? You attempt to free the sadness from your mind enough to read the room. Searching for the emotions of the stranger. However, all you sense is emptiness. The stops and starts of your grueling thought patterns cause you to yawn. Still curled in on yourself, you lean over to rest on your side.

***

You wake. As you rub a sore spot in your arm, you note a new vigor in your veins. Perhaps you fell asleep from the exhaustive cry, or you passed out; but either way, it rejuvenated your body. You conclude you had fallen asleep for hours. Or maybe, just maybe, no time passed at all. You sigh. There is no concept of time in the brig. No simulated circadian rhythm in the light sequence, no brief blips of brightness from nearby machinery, no soft glow of a data pad - nothing. Amid the dark, you picture Rose again and a deep longing to see your friend fills you. Each muscle in your body tenses as you wish with all your might that she is safe… happy. 

With the uplifting rest, you find yourself more at ease in the darkness. In fact, the numbing of your physical sense of sight combined with the lack of others’ emotions constantly bombarding you - leaves you feeling ironically free. Now you are unencumbered from your burdens; no silent reactions to untangle from passing peers, no fear of hiding your secret. The solitary confinement has cleared your mind like never before. 

With your mind an empty canvas, your thoughts again settle on Rose and her escape. At once you’re immersed in the most realistic daydream. The image of your dark-haired friend evolves in your mind, beyond your control. No longer is she contained within the steel walls of the familiar cafeteria, but now past her face you see the haze of purple mountains (mightier than the snow-covered hills of the FO Base). Gone is her First Order gray uniform, instead replaced by a deep yellow jumpsuit, the color flattering her skin and the blush pink in her cheeks. The crease of her brow, the small bite of her bottom lip signals she’s focusing on the work of her hands. It is a face you have seen a million times as she worked on the machinery of the Finalizer. With a satisfied nod, she lets a faint smile slip as she reaches down to pick up a bag. A burnt umber patch sewn into the canvas flashes past your eyes as she slings the backpack over her shoulder. 

“Was that the Resistance insignia?” you ask aloud. The idea of your friend is so clear, her movements so fluid, that you feel as though you could reach out and touch her. But your extended hand only wraps around the cold iron bars as a sharp pain shoots up your arm. Immediately you flinch backward, arms wrapping around your chest. From outside the dream you hear footsteps, but you ignore reality for the vision of your friend. Undeterred from the interruption, you call out to her. 

“Rose!” The name echoes back to you in the expanse of the brig. Suddenly, within your mind, her head pops up. She clutches the necklace around her her neck. You call out again and she takes a step, searching. Her mouth moves, but you can’t hear her. From out of your view, a hand enters the picture and rests on her shoulder with a reassuring tap. She looks past you to the unseen person and smiles, drawing the uniformed stranger into a hug. Before you can call out again, the picture vanishes, replaced by blackness. Straining every inch of your body, you demand your brain to resume the daydream - but it’s gone. Even the simplest memory of Rose is unattainable. At that moment another stinging pain surges from the behind your ear to the middle of your forehead, like a warning urging you to stop. Grasping at your head, you release the memory and allow your senses to neutralize. You remain motionless until the migraine subsides.

***

Hours pass. Or maybe minutes. There was no way to be sure. Dry mouth smacking, you push yourself onto all fours to search for water. Before this moment, you didn't dare move, assuming that someone would realize this was a mistake and free you. But despite the occasional sound of footsteps and beeping, no one had come to your rescue. 

The palms of your hands delicately hover over the gritty surface of the icy floor. Not detecting anything in your path, you move forward. After another gentle lunge, you freeze as your hand comes across the smooth hard edge of what must be a skull. Pulling your hand back, dread overwhelms you as you know it is only a matter of time before you meet the same fate. Your bones just another obstacle for the next ill-fated prisoner. You gulp as you reach down again to push it out of your path. However, it is not a skull. Cautiously deciphering the object with your fingertips, you let out a relieved laugh. Although you suspected that this was the same wing of the brig you escaped through days before (or was it weeks?) you were not sure until this moment - as you held your discarded armor in your hands. You put on the helmet and activate the inner computer. Across your vision screen is a flashing signal alerting you to the low battery, the brightness of alert burns your eyes. Eyes clenched, you slowly adjust to the pulsing red light against your eyelids. 

The realization that you don't have much time peels your eyes open and you attempt to ignore the light as you use the night vision mode to case your surroundings. There in the small cell you see the outlines of a flimsy cot, a toilet, and what was that jutting out from the wall? A water spigot! Overjoyed by the discovery, you rush over and strip off the helmet as you eagerly twist the rusty dial. Placing the entirety of your head beneath the stream, the frigid water rushes through your hair and drips down your face, cleansing the salty tears from your cheeks. Lapping heartily, you ignore the awful metallic taste of the liquid; your deep thirst overpowering the urge to spit it out. Once satisfied, you sit against the wall as your wet hair drips water onto your jumpsuit. The simple reprieve invigorates you and an idea suddenly comes to you. Without wasting another moment, you quickly return the helmet to your head and gather all scattered parts of armor. Now aware of your space, you deliberately set different pieces of the armor in strategic spots on the floor. These little barriers will act as guideposts to help you navigate the room once the helmet loses power.

Adjusting the angle of your last piece of thigh armor, fear grips your body. Shaking your head, you reason it is just the lack of food and light maddening your senses as you try to return to your task. But your thoughts scramble inside in your head and you feel like the room is closing in around you - an energy pushing aggressively against your being. In an attempt to settle your spirit, you stroke your arms tenderly and take a deep breath in. 

**Buzzzz**

A vibration in back left side of your helmet alerts of movement behind you. You wonder if it is the same person from before, but can’t sense anyone else in the room - the inhuman pressure blocking out everything else.

“Hello?” Before you finish the word, your head darts over your shoulder. Your helmet’s power source starts its final phase of shutdown. In the last second of your dimming night vision, you see it… or rather _him_. The pit of your stomach drops and you catch your breath. There past the bars of the cell stands the looming figure of Commander Ren, his arm outstretched to you. Your vision once again goes dark.

“NO! Please!” you scream as you step backward into your cell. “Please!,” after another retreating step, you trip over your cot and your helmeted head crashes into the wall with a thud. 

“ **Stop**.” The order billows inside your brain. With everything now shrouded in blinding darkness, your throat tightens - cutting off your pleas. Body shaking from your surging emotions, you reach for your head, dizzy from the fall. The aching pain in your brain feels as though you are drowning, and you gargle trying to suck down even the smallest breath of air. Hands pull at the ghost about your throat; only to leave long, red, self-inflicted scratches across your skin. Unable to speak, your mind silently urges for the man to spare you - as you hope for a small fragment of sympathy within him. The pressure behind your eyes becomes unbearable. Unable to fight it any longer, you faint onto the cot as your head hangs over the edge- the unbuckled helmet rolling onto the floor.

***

Distant beeps ring through the corridor. Your body attempts to spring to attention only to fall back into the flimsy cot as a deep soreness aches each muscle. Head hammering, you wince in agony at the pain coursing through your body, but you’re alive. **YOU’RE ALIVE!**

Sure that the beeping is just the KX droid on his rounds, your fingers cling to the rough blanket on top of you, pulling it over your shoulders. The little beeps grow nearer and you turn your head to the bars. A trickle of red and blue lights skip across the floor, followed by the soft hum of a service droid rolling up to your cell. The smell of fresh bread fills your nostrils and your mouth salivates in response. Typically, meals of this caliber are reserved for officers, not prisoners. Eager for food, your stomach growls, and you crawl towards the droid. You keep your eyes narrow to avoid the harsh sting of the glowing lights.

“Master Y/N, your awake!,” the GG unit states as he slides the tray of food under the bars. 

“GG-898!” Your eyes well with tears as relief swells within you. After all the time spent alone, the beeps of a caring droid are enough to make your heart burst with cheer. “It is so good to see you!”

“Please eat,” responds the droid, pushing the tray further into the cell. Your hands wrap greedily around the warm bun, ushering it to your awaiting mouth. You take a bite, moaning in gratitude. 

“Thank you!,” you say with a mouth full of food, “How… how long have I been down here?”

“One hundred and nineteen hours since your sentence.”

“That’s nearly five days! How am I alive?!!”

“Since day two, GG-890 and I have checked in on you to provide a sustenance vial injection, an official order by General Hux to keep you alive. But each time you were unresponsive. We were unsure if you would wake,” says the droid, buzzing away. “According to protocol, we had to wait until today to bring rations. Because of the severity of wounds, or self-inflicted injury, most prisoners do not make it past day three and the First Order does not see the need to waste food.” 

Suddenly the sharp pains in your arm and the bouts of unexplained energy make sense. 

“And the bread? These are standard rations?!” You question as you devour the last morsel of bread. The soft creaminess of a butter pad hits the roof of your mouth. You let out a contented laugh. The little luxury stirring a giddiness within you.

“Contraband. Now please hold out your arm for injection.” Following the order, you push up your sleeve only to feel that your burns are healed. The droid monitors you patting your arm and clarifies, “Bacta was also applied the past view days. Also contraband.”

“Wow! Thank you GG-898. I owe my life to the droids many times over now.” You offer your healed arm through the bars as your free hand searches the tray for more food. Fingers wrap around a dehydrated fruit bar and you sigh as the sweetness hits your tongue. As you chew you ponder aloud, “Five days, huh? I don’t know whether to be surprised or not. It feels like minutes but also forever.” Your tone grows serious, nearly afraid to ask the question, “How long… uh… how long am I to stay down here?”

“Unknown,” answers the droid, followed by a palpable silence.

You grimace at the droid’s answer. As doom creeps in, you mentally shift into a more proactive state. With the aid of the droids you have survived past day three, and you are resolute that you will continue to survive. 

“So… uh… speaking of contraband, do you think you could smuggle a micron-wrench and soldering tweezer set into the brig?” Your skills, coupled with a few basic tools, would transform your cell into a workshop; the minor projects to keeping you productive as you await your release.

“What is your intention with these tools? Self harm in this state, without access to medical care, would be deadly,” responded the GG unit, concerned for your well-being.

“Thank you for your concern, but that is not my intent. I have old armor pieces in here. If I can connect the helmet to a power source, then I can sustain the night vision capabilities, if not more. SO much more,” your mind races. “Oh, which reminds me, I need wire too.”

“There is no power source in this area of the brig, not even cameras. Except for…”

“WHAT?!” you blurt out.

“If a prisoner is belligerent enough, or if detaining a beast, guards will electrify the bars. But Y/N, that is over 45 volts - exposure in someone of your stature can cause respiratory paralysis. This line of thinking is unwise.”

“I’m a mechanic GG-898, I can alter the power line safely. I am capable.” Your words are firm.

“Not in the dark,” remarks the droid, cutting you off. “And not in your unstable state. I’m sorry Y/N. I cannot grant you this request. You huff quietly from the droid's denial, until another question enters your mind.

“Who else is down here, GG?”

“This is solitary confinement. You are the only prisoner in this wing.”

“Commander Ren has been here… but I sense someone else too.”

“You are mistaken. Commander Ren has not entered the brig, nor anyone else. There is nothing on the official log.” The droid hesitates a moment before continuing, “If someone has been down here, they want no record of their visitation.”

“What could that mean?”

“It means you should be careful. It would not be the first time a prisoner was injured or killed from an unknown cause.”

“But I’m trapped! How do I avoid it?” your mind goes back to your violent visit from Ren.

“Do not engage. Let them think you are unaware of their presence. A surprised human is often reckless in their reactions. Only emote.” You both go silent for a moment. “Oh, I do have one last offering!” The squeak of metal hinges rings in your ears as the robot opens an internal compartment, brandishing a small glass bottle that clinks against the bars. “This is another official order.”

Taking the bottle, you peel back the wax cap and the aroma catches you off guard, “Whoa! That’s alcohol! And it’s strong!”

“Membrosia,” clarifies GG-898, “The nectar promotes healing. Customarily used as a nerve settling agent to assist with stress.”

“Stress! Of course I'm stressed!,” you scoff, “If General Hux wants me alive so badly, why am I still in here?!”

“A question for another day, as I do not know the answer. Goodbye Y/N.”

“Wait, please stay,” you beg, not ready to end the conversation.

“I cannot. The enforcer droid is on his way. Until tomorrow.”

Taking the rations and the bottle back to your bed, you cocoon yourself in the blanket to enjoy your new offerings. Resting the open bottle of membrosia against your chapped lips, you take a small swig. The milky, velvety texture of the drink coats the inside of your mouth before gliding down the back of your throat in the most pleasing way. 

_“Hmmm.”_

Returning to the fruit bar, you take a few more bites as you feel the elixir go to work, a heat spell washing over your body. Suddenly the darkness that encompasses you doesn't seem so frightening, but rather that last moment of night before a sun rises. The stillness provides a calm aura of possibility.

***

In the darkness behind your eyes, all of your senses swell with energy. The surrounding blackness contorts into various shades, pulsating at a dizzying pace until finally a glittering streak of golden amber cuts your vision in half like a bolt of lightening. You shield your eyes, but the glowing image remains. Suddenly the rush of a breeze against your face instinctively makes you lick your lips. _Was that salt?_ Before you can control your botched senses, they transport you to another world. A world where the night sky is illuminated by beautiful shimmering rings that wrap about the planet, appearing to dive right into the vast green ocean before you. Wiggling your toes in the warm white sand, you stand amazed at the beauty as the hushed whispers of the ocean waves call out to you. Contentment, purpose, and something unrecognizable fill your heart. You wonder if this is the afterlife (an idea forbidden by the First Order - considering the notion a distraction from full obedience).

As you stand there basking in the view, water gently splashes at your feet. It is cool and invigorating, and the receding water leaves your feet glistening against the wet sands. In that serene moment, a strong protective arm wraps around your waist, gently drawing you into a loving embrace of a stranger. Although you know your mind is playing tricks with you, the vision convinces you that there is someone else in the room… breathing. Overwhelmed by the sensation, you thrust yourself back to reality to open your eyes and listen, but hear nothing. 

Your fingers rub at the bottle in your hand. With only one small sip left, your first instinct is to save it. But tomorrow isn’t guaranteed and you throw back the bottle as the silky liquid slides down your throat. You smack your lips together to ensure you’ve ingested each drop and wait. Your heart races, ready for your senses to whisk you away once again. You close your eyes and lean back against the wall - ready to continue in the fantasy. Instantly you return to the dream, the scratchy blanket transforming into the warm embrace of the imaginary man. Against the sensitive shell of your ear, the mysterious figure whispers your name.

“I should have known I’d find you here,” says the voice in a reassuring tone as he nuzzles his nose into your neck, inhaling your scent. Desperate to see the man, you physically turn your head, but the vision remains steadfast - your view secured on the crashing waves.

You hear yourself reply softly in an unknown language, but your tone is warm and welcoming. Encouraged by your affection, he tenderly kisses your exposed shoulder. Slowly and delicately, he makes his way further up your neck. The plush wet kisses spark excited goosebumps across your arms. A humid breath against the delicate skin beneath your ear makes you shiver out of your blanket as your hand rushes to the affected spot. The stimulated skin has the faintest feel of moisture and you reach for the other side of your neck to compare, noticing a slight difference. A laugh escapes your mouth as you are certain that you are already drunk, losing all sense of reality on the potent drink.

As you return to your dream, relief washes over you as lift your head to see the sparkle of stars once again against the dark indigo sky. But instead of the salty breeze of the ocean, your nose tickles from the unmistakable scent of burning wood. The muscles in your face flinch from a billowing heat before you as a wayward flame spits toward you. No longer are you at the shore, but now in a heavy tree laden forest - a campfire blazing.

Not only are you in another world, but this one is silent. There is no crackling of the fire, rustling of leaves, or cooing of birds. You’re unnerved by your lack of hearing; but you are instantly distracted by the ambient glow of a two moon sky. There in the underbrush you sit on a log, aweing at the splendor. Your left hand resting against the rutted surface of the log is soon upturned as warm, large fingers interlace with your own. Startled by the intrusion, you turn to see a familiar face, Poe Dameron. The cuts and wounds that speckled his face before are now healed, revealing a man even more handsome than you remember. 

His gaze rests on the fire, but you can’t help but notice how he elongates the words silently escaping his mouth. Leaning in closer in a futile effort to hear the faintest sound, you notice his throat warbling. He’s singing! Caught with an unexpected laugh, your fingers fly up to cover the giggle. With a coy flirtatiousness swirling within you, it seems that the celestial moons aren’t the only bodies that have caught your eye. 

Turning from the flames, the singing pilot searches your face you with a heat that could rival the fire. You bite your lip as he moves in closer, his free hand now cradling your head as he pulls you in to kiss you. The dream so real, you can taste a subtle sweetness from his tender lips. Craving more, you close your eyes and lean in close, but he is gone. Eyes now wide open, it surprises you to see him standing up, brushing the soot from his lap. With a reassuring smile, he reaches out for your hand as he crooks his head backward. You follow his motion to see an a-line tent behind you. At the will of the vision, your body rises. Poe escorts you into the cozy tent. A small lantern illuminates a cot covered in a plush blanket. Still smiling, Poe lets go of your hand to turn down the covers. Before taking the last step, you turn to the edge of the tent curtain, releasing the ties. The canvas flaps in the breeze and your hand quickly reaches out to grab it. 

Once recovered, the plain beige canvas beneath your fingertips refashions into a luxurious, scarlet velvet - weighty and soft in your hand. Begging to be touched and too tempting to ignore. Startled, you turn around expecting to see Poe, but there is only darkness. Looking beyond the fabric, there is no longer a thicket of sturdy trees, but instead a grand ballroom hosting a flurry of elegant couples swirling together in the most eye pleasing patterns. Despite the bustle, it is once again eerily silent.

A well-dressed server sashays by with a tray of fluted drinks. Catching your presence from the corner of his eye, he stops and offers you a refreshment. Nodding in gratitude, you take the drink and sip at the sparkling liquid. There is no taste. Your lips contort into a frown as you bring the beverage to your nose - no, not even a smell. Now three senses have failed you, only sight and touch remain.

Discarding the drink, you use the senses you have left to survey your surroundings. Across the room you notice the recognizable face of your General Hux. Unsurprisingly serious, he chatters brusquely with rigid hands to someone blocked by Keteerian male - leisurely puffing away on a pipe. As a tray of food passes, the Keteerian follows suit, revealing the hidden companion in conversation with Hux. Your breath catches in your throat. Subconsciously your hand presses reassuringly at your bare chest, the plunging neckline of an emerald silk dress delicately covering your frame. 

There standing before you is what must be the profile of a prince, statuesque in his physique. Dressed in a suit of all black, he towers over the General. The nose of a leader, strong and pointed, centers his chiseled face. His angular features framed by a curtain of inky black tender curls - a juxtaposition to his commanding, austere demeanor. 

Shifting from unsteady heel to unsteady heel of your wobbly footwear, you watch as he turns his regal face. Scanning the room in a quiet search, his thumb caresses the edge of his glass, ignoring every word from the General. After another pass through the crowded room, he spots you; his fierce eyes lock onto your own. The heat and determination searing from his narrow eyes leaves you breathless. Your face blushes from the surge of blood. The intensity is too much to bear and you to look down to the black-and-white floor, the tight pattern of the tiles appearing to move beneath you. Breathing out slowly through pursed lips, you dare to look back up. Instantly you gulp when you see the man making his way toward you, eyes still laser as his svelte body prowls through the masses. With unwavering focus, he saunters through the dancing couples between you without even the slightest need for hesitation. He is a man that controls the room and from the heat washing over your body, a man in control of you as well.

Mere steps away, your heart beats so wildly within your chest that it pulses within your ears. With everything else silent, all you hear is your beating heat. Your mouth goes dry and you lick your lips in anticipation. The small action does not go unnoticed by the handsome stranger, and a slight smile curls the edge of his supple lips. Raising his hand to escort you to the dance floor, you mirror his action. Within the very last moment before you touch, your arm is snatched away and your body whisked onto the dance floor by a blond suited man. In the throes of a waltz, he zigzags your body across the dance floor. You stumble over your feet with no rhythm to guide you - just silence. You feel a staccato breath against your ear and conclude that the man is speaking to you. Ignoring his prompts, your eyes go back to the handsome stranger, your head twisting and turning, trying to get another look. There he stands, nostrils flaring, and fists clenching in a way that seems both menacing and familiar. After another turn about the room, he once again catches your eye and mouths the word “soon”.

Letting go of your partner, you take a step in the man’s direction only to feel your legs give way beneath you. The patterned floor appears as a dizzying whirlpool of white and black. Sinking into the abyss your vision clouds… soon everything is dark. Your brain shuts down and you drift into an unconscious state.

***

“Agh!” You yelp, awoken by a sharp pain in your left arm. Your eyes open to witness the glowing eyes of a friend.

“2-1B!” You try to sit up in the bed to hug the medical droid, but your body remains limp. “Why… why can’t I move?”

“Even with the sustenance injections, your vitals are deteriorating,” informs the droid while hovering a scanner over your forehead. “GG-890 informs me you have undergone long bouts of unconsciousness, the source remains unknown. Perhaps a parasite.”

“It’s just dreams, 2-1B,” you answer, brushing off the seriousness of the situation.

“A likely symptom of the parasite. When I found you yesterday, your brain activity was running rampant, devouring every resource within your body. If I hadn’t administered a barbiturate injection to limit brain function, you would not have made it.”

BEEP BEEP BOOOOOOP! 

Both you and the medical droid hear the loud warning of a GG-unit.

“I have to go. If they find me here it will be you that pays the price,” replies the droid, scurrying into the darkness and away to the tunnel system.

Confined to the cot, motionless, the heavy drugs still flow through you. As the GG-unit approaches, entering your cell with food, you whisper to him.

“Who is here? Is it the enforcer droid?”

GG-890 does not respond, but stays true to protocol (no fraternizing with prisoners). You try again, wanting an answer. 

“Who is it?” Again you are met with silence as the droid backs out of the cell and closes the bars. Suddenly the sensation of curiosity and concern push every other thought from your mind. These are not your feelings. Someone else is here. Someone was watching the droid… and you.

“Hello?” You call out, hopeful this time someone will answer back. There is no audible response, but a feeling of surprise reaches you. You call out again, but the intruding feelings grow weaker only to disappear a minute later. Whatever or whoever it is, it is gone.

***

As the hours drone on, you remain trapped in an inert body. As the drugs wane, you feel a prickling sensation in your legs. Careful of your fragile state, you wiggle each muscle gently as it reconnects with your brain. Once again, you hear the beeps of a GG unit. Another day has passed. GG-898 enters the cell to help you to a sitting position on the cot and offers you a roll of bread. You eat in silence as the robot completes the sustenance injection. Satisfied with your progression in health, the droid provides a piece of information.

“I have detected your name through interoffice correspondence,” states GG-898, “General Audry, of the Fulminatrix, has requested a hearing for your release.”

“General Audry? He’s my sister’s… or was…. I guess,” your voice goes silent, the words still heavy against your tired lungs.

“After the next mission, he is planning to reconvene on the Finalizer to speak on your behalf.”

Your blood runs cold as a mysterious shiver runs through your veins. “What mission?”

“The First Order has received word of a Resistance camp on D’Qar. Orders to destroy it before they have a chance to flee. We are en route now.”

The bread roll drops from your grasp as an unfamiliar memory rips through your mind. The last words of your sister screaming between your ears. You summon all your strength as you cry out:

“No! GG-898! A hammer… a cobalt hammer… AGH!! My head!” You brace your temples with hands, unable to find relief from the sharp sting of the projection in your mind. When you open your eyes again, you are looking through someone else's eyes - peering down into the hull of a ship, filled to the brim with dangling orbs. “Bombs!” you say aloud as the vision continues. The person you are inhabiting, lowers their body down into the hold. The figure passes by the polished surface of an access panel. It looks just like… 

“ROSE!” you scream in a frenzied panic, “GG-898, something is wrong. We have to stop this!”

“Please quiet down,” urges the droid, “There is nothing to be done. Plans are already in motion.”

“AHH, NO! Maybe… what if we warn General Audry? Maybe if he isn’t there, it won’t happen. None of it will happen!” Your breathless words and incoherent mumbling fill the cell as you rack your brain for a way to prevent the vision from becoming a reality. “Tell a complicit R4 Courier Droid, it can submit the message directly to General Audry.”

“Any detection of this correspondence, an attempt to call off a mission… could be further proof of your alleged traitor status. You will never leave this cell.”

“I know,” you concede, “But I have to try. Please!”

“Very well, Y/N. I will go now.”

“Hurry!” You watch as the faint beeps and flickers of light dim through the hall, wishing under your breath that the droid is successful. As your mind focuses back on your cell, you sense once again that you are not alone. You can no longer take the mystery.

“SHOW YOUR FACE, YOU DAMN COWARD!” You scream into the darkness, but before you can wait for a response, your heads once again crashes into your cot.

***

More time passes, and there is no word. It feels like days, but without the visitation of droids, it is impossible to tell. Your empty stomach growls for food, and you feel your way over to the spigot, hoping a belly full of water will ease the pain. Down the long corridor, a door opens emitting a distant light. “It must be the guard,” you think to yourself, since the KX unit does not require light to patrol. The slim beam that makes its way into your cell sears your eyes with pain. You turn into your cot to hide your sensitive eyes. 

Before reaching the wall, you hear the clunk of metal plated boots marching over a slate floor - the booms resounding down the hallway. You conclude that the KX droid is accompanying the guard. But the scattering of light from a mirrored surface shoots down your theory. Those security droids use a light absorbing armor to avoid detection, this shiny figure approaching wants to be seen - a threat easily feared from a distance. Your mind instantly pictures the only stormtrooper that could fit this description.

“ _Phasma_ ,” you mutter under your breath as she rounds the corner of your cell.

“On your feet, prisoner. You have a meeting with General Hux.”


End file.
